Milan,
Italy
Friday, January 21, 1972
Although my parents had visited Milan a number of times, including business related meetings and entertainment, it was not till 1969 that I was included in one of their long weekend journeys to this shopping mecca. Think of Milan's many covered Gallerias, including the Galleria Vittorio Emanuelle, that house a multitude of shops and boutiques in high ceilinged venues, as the forerunners to our modern day malls, albeit with a lot more elegance and sophistication. My dad's one vice in life might be to enjoy a great quality shoe, one that fits like a glove and looks like it was molded on his feet, and he found this cherished ideal at Milan's Bruno Magli. My mom, forever a petite size had the perfect body for a multitude of Italian couture, one of a kind. Branded in my brain is a foray to a leather shop where she tried on a 60's must, suede pants, and I achingly longed to be able to fit in a pair as well, but to no avail. With neither an easy to fit foot, nor an average waist I had to console myself with antipasti, gelato and more. With baby sister in tow I remember staying at the grand Hotel Duomo, surrounded by all this almost 2500 year old city had to offer, visiting the famed Duomo, La Scala and The Church of Santa Maria Delle Grazie (housing the last supper) . Going out to dinner was even more of a highlight than the day's sights and even at an early age, my parents would let me choose from the regular adult menu, no kiddie menu or spaghetti marinara for me, but their one prerequisite was that I eat in its entirety whatever I ordered.
My love of everything Italian and specifically its cucina, got its start here, starting with the overladen antipasto table, so many delectable morsels and so little time. My eyes would invariably land on the artichokes in olive oil, sauteed bell peppers with a hint of garlic, the overstuffed lotus blossoms, marinated mushrooms, how to choose? The world still evolves around pasta for me, from feather light pillows of gnocchi with pesto, orechietti with pancetta and olive oil or ravioli with fresh tomato, mozzarella and sage, simplicity at its best. And then the piece de resistance, heavenly gelato and just imagine, that if I had a problem limiting my antipasto to only 2 or 3 choices, how could I ever decide on which gelato to have. The sweetest fruits, the most decadent chocolate, the creamiest vanilla, interspersed with unique flavors like lavender, panna cotta, straciatella, hazelnut, zabaglione, I would only hope that my parents would choose different flavors than I, so that I could have a good sized lick from each of them, expanding my repertoire of gelato flavors all in one night. Milan will always stay dear to my heart and dare I say, my stomach.
