There is a story Carlo Petrini shares at the very beginning of his famous book, Slow Food Nation, that I often think about.
Carlo is travelling through Piemonte—the beautiful region in northeast Italy famous for its incredible culinary history.
On his way to Bra, his home town, Carlo decides to make an impromptu stop at his friend’s restaurant.
In the story, it’s not clear if it’s the wish to see his friend that persuades him to stop or rather his famous “peperonata,” a common Italian dish, which in Piemonte is made with the square peppers traditionally grown in the town of Asti.
As we turn the page, curious, we find Carlo sitting at the restaurant, already thinking about the subtle flavours of the peperonata, his mind flooded by pleasant memories. I believe you know that feeling.
But to Carlo’s surprise, even from his very first bite, he quickly realizes that much has been lost of what his taste buds remembered.
An affable man, but also a true gastronomer, Carlo gently points out to his restaurateur friend that his peperonata kind of sucked.
“What has changed?” he asks. “You sure have not become a bad chef overnight. What peppers are you using?”
His friend admits, the peppers are from Holland. They are beautiful, they are bright red, they are this big (as he gestures animatedly) and they are 42 in a case, every time.
“And they have no flavour,” Carlo adds.
His friend nods but he is also quick to point out how this is a business after all and that the peppers from Holland are much, much cheaper.
So much cheaper, in fact, that growing peppers has become bad business in the area.
Carlo is of course disappointed. He leaves the restaurant and searches his mind for one more memory: the farm where he used to get the square peppers of Asti—the one necessary ingredient to create the true peperonata of his childhood.
He finds the farm and he finds the farmer.
“Hello,” he says. “May I ask a question? The square peppers, the ones from Asti. You still grow them?”
The farmer smiles as he motions no with his head.
“It’s the peppers from Holland” the farmer says. They are this big, bright red and 42 in a case…”
It’s a broken record, and a song Carlo is quickly growing tired of hearing.
“So what do you grow now?” Carlo asks.
“Tulip bulbs,” the farmer says, “To be sent back to Holland.”