"There's no push push push here!" Diego says emphatically with his hands. Like many of the Italians we've met so far, Diego has an understanding and appreciation for the natural cycles of the earth and our place in them. When they need to keep pests away from their vineyards, they put bird boxes amongst the grapes to attract a certain bird to eat the insects. When the soil needs nourishment, they take manure from their animals to feed the earth. Vegetables are organic because "why wouldn't they be?" And, during the two-month dry spell when Diego's goats don't produce much milk, he uses that time to be free. His life philosophy is to observe, practice, and relax—something that we Americans (including me) could learn from.
Diego explained his life philosophy over wine and cheese when we visited his house and farm, where he produces goat cheeses and natural wines. When we arrived, the hot humidity mixed with the sour scent of the fermenting cheeses and the earthy smell of the nearby goats to make sure I was fully aware that we were somewhere I'd never been. While Diego didn't have the overflowing warmth that many Italian men have, we felt welcomed into his world. It felt like we were getting an intimate look into his life, complete with his children's bikes and swing set, the farm dogs, the unusual chickens strutting about, and the farm equipment. Diego is unpretentious, and he is also unafraid of boldly being himself: he went against his family when he left accounting and pursued cheese and wine making, and now, after 15 years, he has begun teaching middle-schoolers at a Waldorf school three days a week. He's a dreamer and maybe a bit of an idealist, and I admired his heart that is unwaveringly beating to its own rhythm.
We got an informal tour of his cheese-making operation: since we're in the dry milk season, the cheeses were already made and just being aged. He showed us big rounds, logs, pyramidal shapes, and small disks of various types of cheeses. Without the hairnets and booties that I've come to expect on a tour, it felt so casual and homey. I loved seeing how Diego handled his cheeses with such pride.
We went to thank the goats for their milk, and then Diego was off to pick his kids up from school while we sat down for another "light lunch." We started with freshly-sliced sourdough (a treat to have salted, homemade sourdough!) and some of his Merlot. The chef who came for the afternoon brought us eggy souffles, which were a delightful alternative to the typical antipasta of cured meats and cheeses. Then she served an ancient grain pasta with summer vegetables, most of which had been harvested in the garden behind the house. The pasta was different than the normal tender, pale pasta: it was a shorter rolled-shape and tasted nutty, slightly sweet, and chewy. This pasta was the chef's "prototype," as she is still working on creating these biodiverse wheat pastas in a more affordable way. This dish tasted of summer and a home kitchen, and the vision and passion behind it gave it a rich texture.
Experiencing life and food through this new lens gave me a greater understanding of Italy and why the food is different here. Many people in these more rural areas only have to look down into the valley and hillsides to see the fresh food and products that will end up on their tables only a few short miles later. They are far more likely to know where their food comes from than I am at home. As Diego showed us, we all need to see what's truly important in life, respect the natural cycles, and acknowledge that most things are connected. I still have so much to learn, but for now, I'll observe, practice, and relax.
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