My love for food and an ordinary life

When I was told I would have never succeeded if I didn’t move abroad, my biggest fear started manifesting itself: was I too provincial?

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I’ve written this newsletter multiple times and deleted it just as many, changed it, and rewritten it. I thought it was too personal, and then, at the same time, not interesting enough. The renewed urge to write that Substack gave me and a desire for an honest account of where everything was born prompted me to finally put down in words what I had been feeling for a while.

Today’s newsletter has to do with food, what it was for me, how I got to love it, and how it shaped the woman I am now. It has to do with self-confidence and impostor syndrome, with books and countryside, with real life and family heritage.

I live in one of the most romanticized areas of Italy - the Tuscan countryside - and I write about food. Idyllic, right?

Yet, I chose to write about my daily life, not to ride the wave of Italian food, but because this is where I happened to be born, and because I gradually fell in love with the same food I grew up with. My love for food doesn’t come from a long family tradition. It comes from a craving for good food.

I’m not writing about a glamourised existence in the Tuscan countryside - here you won’t find aperitivo on a terrace, Vespa rides and fresh tagliatelle hand rolled on a daily basis -, and I didn’t have a dramatic, difficult life either. Hardship, that’s something I thought I had to have to write about my life until a few years ago when I met a great writing teacher, Silvia Schiavo. That class with Silvia gave me permission to write about my life, to find that sparkle that makes every life unique.

I’ve been blessed with an ordinary life, and food is the key I chose to tell my life. There’s nothing to fear in normality.

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I grew up in the Tuscan countryside, in a not-so-touristic town called Colle Val d’Elsa, nestled in between Siena, Florence, San Gimignano, and the Chianti hills. I’ve always been close to the action and to the hustle and bustle of the touristic Tuscany, but far enough to have a very calm, provincial life.

I’ve always loved food, matter-of-factly. Yes, I grew up in the countryside with a grandmother who had a small vegetable garden but remember that those were the roaring ‘80s, so the tomatoes from the garden went hand in hand with storebought Knorr risottos and industrial snacks. I would equally appreciate blackberries picked from the brambles on a hot summer afternoon and Oro Saiwa biscuits dunked two by two in my daily tea at 5 pm while doing my homework on the living room table.

I had a quiet childhood in the countryside. I was often alone, but never I felt lonely: I got myself busy with bike rides, cooking concoctions with cypress acorns and dried leaves, playing videogames, and reading: novels, Disney comics, magazines, everything would do. Reading was my way to explore the world from my bedroom or from the curated garden my grandma filled with pots of geraniums and my mum with roses.

I learnt the first cooking rudiments from my mum - we used to bake a ciambellone every Sunday - and from nonna Marcella, my paternal grandmother, who would make fresh tagliatelle just for family gatherings and a legendary rich, buttery, heavy cake made only of dry cookies and buttercream. I cooked my first solo meal at 12 - bow tie pasta with cream and smoked salmon, and chicken tights with cream and mustard (this gives away my age). To be honest, the first dish that I cooked unassisted was a bowl of gluey white rice I throw in a pot of cold unsalted water once my mum was sick, but that doesn’t really count as cooking.

Over the years, I honed my cooking skills and expanded my tastebuds thanks to cheap cooking magazines I would buy at the local newsstand while waiting for the bus to go to school - I skipped all the teenage gossip ones impatiently awaiting the new issues of Cucina Facile or Cucina Moderna - and to an unfinished cooking encyclopedia my mum had started to collect before getting married.

Whenever I felt insecure or when I was searching for approval, I would bake a cake, a simple one, such as a pineapple upside-down cake or a jam crostata.

There was a little celebration at school for Carnival? I would volunteer to bake a cake. We spent the day at the local theatre for the rehearsal of our Shakespeare play? I would bring cookies for everyone.

I discovered I might have had a talent for cooking when at university fruit tarts, pasta salads, and savoury strudels were my picklock to attend the most sought-after parties in shabby student apartments where the food standards were honestly questionable. The kitchen was my safe space, where I slowly gained some self-confidence and where I start building my personality.

With my first proper salary from my first proper job, I bought my first two cookbooks: they were Tessa Kiros’ Apples for Jam and Falling Cloudberries. BOOM! This is where my addiction to cookbooks started. Reading Apples for Jam was like discovering a new way to tell stories, through food and recipes. In this book, with beautiful, warm photography and writing, Tessa Kiros collects the recipes she cooks for her daughters, organising them by colour. Her recipes are entangled with memories, collected over the years, and passed down from family to family. I still cherish this book, with handwritten notes about when I made a recipe for a special occasion.

After one year, I started my blog, Juls’ Kitchen. There I paired my love for food and for the English language in a personal space where I could pour all my passion and commitment. In the beginning, my family thought the blog was just another fleeting passion, and my mum used to tell me: as soon as you find a boyfriend, this too shall pass… I’m so happy that I proved her wrong, as the blog brought me not only lifelong friendships that are still a meaningful part of my life, but a boyfriend, who later become my partner in life and in business, Tommaso.

Weekends, late nights, holidays: everything was dedicated to this project that was slowly growing and making me bolder in my dreams. It took me a couple of years, but I started wondering: what if I could make a job out of it? What if I could be an Italian voice writing about Italian food in English from Italy?

That’s when I was told I would have never succeeded if I didn’t move abroad. My biggest fear started manifesting itself: was I too provincial?

I had never lived in a city, let alone abroad. I don’t have a culinary degree. And now that we’re at it, is my English good enough?

As a teenager, I was naive and not as shrewd as my classmates who came from the bigger town. At university, I would commute every day by bus to go to Siena to attend lessons and to spend hours studying and chatting at the department library, coming back home in the late afternoon just in time to give Greek and Latin private lessons to younger students in my town.

I’ve always been tangent to city life, as I was always coming back home to the dark, starry nights of the winter months and to the hypnotic concerts of crickets and frogs of summer nights.

Coming from the province has never been a burden, but when I entered the food world, so immense and limitless thanks to the internet, I suddenly felt small, inexperienced, and far from the inner circles of those who counted. I was not in Milan, the centre of the Italian food scene, where food events, festivals, and book launches happen, where most of the media agencies and food magazines are. Being a non-native English speaker also made it harder for me to access foreign media and join tight-knit communities.

Despite feeling intimidated, I realized that success - or at least what I consider success, and this could open another long conversation - is achievable with hard work, determination, and a willingness to learn.

I was not alone. Just like during my childhood, I clung to cookbooks, podcasts, blogs, and newsletters to broader my horizons, learn, build meaningful connections and, eventually, feel more confident. Food was once again my redemption. As Laurie Colwin puts it:

“No one who cooks, cooks alone. Even at her most solitary, a cook in the kitchen is surrounded by generations of cooks past, the advice and menus of cooks present, the wisdom of cookbook writers.”

I came to understand that living outside of a major city or not being a native English speaker may present some challenges, but it doesn't have to hold you back, as it can also provide a unique perspective and voice.

This choice - staying here at home, welcoming people from all over the world for the cooking classes, and writing about an ordinary life in Tuscany - gave me the opportunity to see the beauty of what I have around me through the lenses of food. This choice was the turning point that made me be seen and understood.

I am deeply rooted in the Tuscan countryside where I was born, and where I intend to live, I have an ordinary life, a life I am proud of and that mirrors my values and priorities, but my mind and spirit are connected and inspired by thousands of international writers, podcasters, tastemakers, authors, chefs and home cooks, that help me enlighten the extraordinary of the everyday.

A wooden spoon was my magic wand and my security blanket. After so many years, still, nothing has changed. I wanted to be honest about the origin of my love for food, about how it helped me become the woman I am now, with my strengths and weaknesses. I wanted this to be an account of how a normal life can indeed be extraordinary when you find a key to look at it. And this is what I’d love to pass on to Livia.

Now I’d love to hear your thoughts on the role food has had and has in your life, or if my desire for an ordinary life somehow resonated with you.

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SOME INFO FOR YOU

• Publication day is getting closer! Cucina Povera will hit the bookshelves on April 4th. If you haven’t preordered it yet, Omnivore Books has signed copies, and you can get them here.

• You can read the first shared recipe from Cucina Povera on Graza’s blog: pappa al pomodoro. How exciting! and look at that photo! Tommaso managed to perfectly capture the texture I like in pappa al pomodoro.

• Mark your calendar: Sunday, March 26th there will be the next Cook Along and Live Talk (reserved for paying subscribers), scroll to the bottom to choose what we’ll be cooking together.

• On Sunday, April 16th we’ll have a Live Talk open to everyone, a virtual book launch and a party to celebrate Cucina Povera. Keep your eyes peeled for the link to join the event. If you already received Cucina Povera, cook or bake your favourite recipe and join the conversation online.

MARCH LIVE TALK AND COOK ALONG

SUNDAY the 26th of March, we will meet at 9 pm CET - 3 pm EDT - 12 pm PDT to cook something together. As always it is a moment when we cook together, but you can join just to have a chat, laugh, ask questions, share stories, or simply listen while having a good cup of tea (or a glass of wine).

This is an event designed for those who subscribed to Letters from Tuscany: every month (except during august) we meet online: we’re slowly building friendships, and shared memories, and we’re definitely having lots of fun!

Click to pre-order

BOOK EVENTS AND TALKS

Gather your friends and foodie enthusiasts and join us for an unforgettable culinary experience. Taste the flavours, learn the techniques, and discover the soul of Cucina Povera at our book talks & events.

• Sunday, April 16th - LIVE TALK open to everyone, a virtual book launch and party to celebrate Cucina Povera. Keep your eyes peeled for the link to join the event. If you already received Cucina Povera, cook or bake your favourite recipe and join the fun online.

• Friday, April 21, 2023 - CUCINA POVERA: The Art of Making Do With What You’ve Got - Online event with MoFad New York and Kitchen Arts and Letters. A conversation with Regula Ysewijn. Purchase tickets here.

• Sunday, April 23, 2023 – Italy Off the Beaten Path with Giulia Scarpaleggia, hosted by Milk Street Live Online Cooking School. Purchase tickets here. Use CUCINA to have a 15% discount.

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Cooking Experience in Tuscany with us

Slow down and be ready to live a day as a local: hearty homemade food is included. Every meal will be an excuse to travel through Tuscany thanks to local recipes, memories and stories. Learn more about our cooking classes here.

First available openings:

• Wednesday, March 29th - Market to Table Cooking Class - 2 spots available

• Wednesday, April 5th - Market to Table Cooking Class - 2 spots available

• Thursday, April 13th - Tuscan Cooking Class - 6 spots available

• Wednesday, April 26th - Market to Table Cooking Class - 2 spots available

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