There is a culinary line that dissects the midriff of the Europecontinent. This line proceeds in gradients of latitudes that mayblur as you move from north to south.
The people of the north raise herds of cows and goats. Their milk is sometimes whipped into butter or aged into cheese. Almost everything edible is bathed in either cream or butter.
Here the pigs feast on chestnuts and in turn make good sausage. The pickles are fermented, and the kraut soured to nourishsturdy souls through long winter months.
Below this imaginary line, trees pervade. Hot ancient orchards dot the hillsides dripping with great bundles of green-black olives. They’re pressed into a nutty oil for the base of sauces and ragouts or a simple dip for crusty bread.
Tomatoes and vegetables of every size and elongation are bathed in this southern sun.
Every scaled and nautical beast is netted and fished from the sea.
Italy, Spain, Portugal, Morocco, Greece, and Cyprus all surround the Mediterranean Sea, these are the people who inspire the southern Mediterranean diet.
Continue reading “In Search of The Tangible and Intangible Mediterranean Diet”
I find myself once again in Tunisia—the people are goodhearted—almost innocent—it feels safe here.