Camille visits La Molina chocolate, in Quarrata, near Pistoia. The saying, "Dulcis in Fundo", could not be more appropriate. This is Camille's last culinary destination in Italy. Thank you, Camille. It has been a privilege to read the journal your wrote for us. Your work was great and perfectly caught the spirit of our producers, our heros. Of course, Zac's beautiful pictures helped a lot, too. Grazie veramente. This is what Camille says about her visit to la Molina:
What’s a better fix for a sweet craving than chocolate? Nothing, in my opinion. But with check-out stands crowded with chocolate bars, how to choose? Well, it’s easy. As with everything else on Gustiamo’s website, quality ingredients and time-tested traditions make for a quality product, and the same goes for chocolate.
Chocolate maybe isn’t the first thing you think of when you think “Italy,” but La Molina is changing all that. Started in 2000 by the Lunardi brothers, who had been making pastry for years, they’re constantly thinking of new ways to reinvent the classics. What better example than their chocolate cactus, a new and fun take on the Italian favorite, chocolate Easter eggs. But maybe they are most unique in their business model: everything is made by hand using only the best ingredients. Unlike industrial chocolate companies, La Molina sources its chocolate from small plantations. The chocolate is produced according to a recipe unique to La Molina, and the amazing flavors and shapes are created after the chocolate arrives in Italy.
The day I visited, they were in the process of turning fresh oranges into candied orange peel, making the entire workroom smell like orange (Alessandro, who was wonderful and showed us around, offered us a few of the already-peeled oranges. Since they only use the peel in the chocolate, all of the employees take home oranges to their families. What a bonus!). The fact that the ingredients are fresh and are added by hand is obvious – the “gianduja” (hazelnut) chocolates taste like the hazelnuts had been freshly toasted, and the intensely creamy chocolate melts in your mouth.
La Molina chocolate is delicious, but it’s also beautiful – the packaging is modern and innovative, and is a feast for the eyes as well as the mouth. And they get what all of us chocolate lovers want – their chocolate bars are big enough to be satisfying, but they’re small enough that you could devour the entire thing yourself. You’re meant to get your hands dirty and enjoy the chocolate to the last bite, bringing out the kid in everyone. And that’s how La Molina thinks about chocolate – it’s a connection to pleasure, to bliss, and it should be enjoyed and celebrated as such.
All in all, from the beautiful packaging to the incredible flavors and textures, everything about La Molina is well crafted.
Camille continues her culinary adventures with Gustiamo, goes to visit Mariangela of Acetaia La Cà dal Nôn and discovers the wonderful world of aceto balsamico tradizionale. She is so inspired by the product that is older than she is, that her prose is not only very informative but also poetic! Grazie Camille!
Balsamic vinegar is definitely one of the things that first pops into my head when I think of typical Italian food. My favorite after-work snack is fresh bread dipped in olive oil with a splash of balsamic vinegar (aceto balsamico in Italian). Or even better, bruschetta al pomodoro with tomatoes marinated in vinegar. But until coming to Italy, my kitchen contained only run-of-the-mill, industrially produced “balsamic vinegar” from Trader Joe’s. But after my recent visit to La Cà dal Nôn, I now know what I’ve been missing and I don’t think I can ever go back (in fact, now that my Italian adventure is drawing to a close, I don’t know how I’m going to survive in an American grocery store. I might break down crying in the middle of the cereal aisle)!
To visit La Cà dal Nôn and experience true “aceto balsamico tradizionale di Modena” (and there really is such a thing as “true” in this case – more on that in a minute) I had to travel to Vignola, a small town between Bologna and Modena, famous for its cherries and, of course, its aceto balsamico. After being picked up from the train station, Zac and I were brought to the Montanari family home for a wonderful lunch and tour of the family acetaia (side note: only producers of aceto balsamic tradizionale can be called an acetaia; industrial producers are known as “acetificio”). The family has been making vinegar since 1883, when the great-grandfather of Mariangela, who with her father now runs La Cà dal Nôn, decided to begin making traditional balsamic vinegar for his family. It wasn’t until about 15 years ago that they began selling their vinegar, but the name, La Cà dal Nôn, means “The House of the Grandfather” and is a tribute to the family’s long history of and passion for making aceto balsamico tradizionale.
The decision to produce balsamic vinegar as it has been done for centuries must be one of passion – the amount of time, energy, care, and patience that goes into each and every bottle is truly impressive. But it was immediately obvious how much Mariangela cares about her family’s product: she knew important dates in the history of vinegar, the weight of balsamic vinegar in relation to water, how many bottles they produce every year, and so on. And there’s so much to keep track of! First and foremost, the grapes have a large impact on the finished product. Mariangela uses trebbiano modenese grapes (which are white, something I would have never guessed) along with other local grape varieties from the family vineyard. The grapes are harvested as late as possible, normally in the end of September, so that the sugar content is high. The grapes are then pressed and the resulting juice (the “must”) is cooked for around thirty-six hours (depending on the sugar content of the grapes) in a metal pot over a direct flame to evaporate the water and caramelize the sugars.
After the cooking process ends, the must is poured into the first barrel in the series to begin the fermentation, acidification, and aging process. Immediately upon stepping into the aging rooms, an intensely sweet yet acidic smell of vinegar hits you. The small rooms are crowded with lines and lines of barrels, each starting with a fairly large barrel and ending with one just larger in circumference than a basketball. The liquid is first poured into the largest of barrels and a percentage is moved each cycle to the next smallest barrel, until reaching the smallest on the line, thereby finishing the process (in other words, the vinegar you buy is taken only from the smallest barrel). These “batteria” (all between 5 and 15 barrels in length) are where the magic takes place: Mariangela explained that the first few barrels, where the newest must is poured, is where the fermentation takes place. The barrels in the middle are mainly where the acidification, or vinegarization, occurs, and the last few barrels are mostly for aging. The vinegar thickens throughout the process, hence the decreasing size. But it’s not just about what’s in the barrel that counts – the barrels themselves have a large impact on the finished product.
The series can only contain wood native to the Modena region, such as chestnut, cherry, oak, and mulberry, and the order of the barrels alters the taste of the vinegar (the vinegar finished in a barrel made of cherry, for example, is sweeter). A lot of forethought go into making a “family” of barrels, and as soon as the family is conditioned they should always be used together. A lot goes into conditioning the barrels – it takes at least a year and a half of “washing” a new barrel with highly acidic vinegar before it is ready for use. For this reason, the older the barrels, the better the product, and La Cà dal Nôn is still using batteria from the early 1900’s.
The care that goes into each batch of vinegar is remarkable. Not only is the aging process extensive (the youngest vinegar must be aged at least twelve years and the extra vecchio - old - vinegar must be aged at least for twenty-five years – it was strange trying something even older than I am!), Mariangela and her father spend long hours tasting and altering each batch of vinegar, so that by the time it is removed and bottled it has been taste-tested and adjusted at least a dozen times. It takes an informed palate to know what needs changing, and Mariangela has been spending time amongst the batteria since she could walk.
Yes, aceto balsamico tradizionale is expensive, but I have no doubt in my mind that this is one of the most time-intensive, difficult food products out there. And it’s worth it – the taste is so unique I can’t even describe it. Maybe most notable is that this vinegar is so well balanced that it’s best appreciated by the spoon full – there’s none of that face-contorting sourness about it. Instead, it’s a burst of flavor that is entirely unique. I’m so, so glad that there are people like Mariangela who love their product so intensely that they can spend years making it perfect. It’s an unforgettable experience to taste La Cà dal Nôn’s vinegar, and I’m really looking forward to taking this piece of Italy at its finest home with me!
If you are visiting Roma and if you love authentic and local italian food you shouldn't miss the Mercato Circo Massimo. Open on Saturdays and Sundays, located in the center of Roma, in the splendid building which was once the old Jewish fish market, near Via dei Cerchi. It is next my other discovery of this trip, Cristalli di Zucchero. Caffe' and cappuccino, first, with Camille (Gustiamo's food reporter - see here her posts), Zac (Camille's boyfriend and official photographer of her culinary adventures with Gustiamo) and Pietro (third from left in the picture). Pietro works with Coldiretti, the sponsor of this Mercato and knows everything about good authentic foods. How can I be so sure? Pietro had the best training, having worked part time with Gustiamo for four years, before. Pietro is always there and when you go to the Mercato, make sure you say hello!
Roberto Vinci is the infaticable Direttore of the Mercato and explained to me that only the farmers from Lazio can display and sell their products at the Mercato and their selection is based on best quality and practices. From 20 farmers, when the Mercato first opened last October, now there are 50, all grateful to have an outlet in the center of Roma. They are proud of their hard work and willing to tell you everything about their products. Roberto also told me that, in the average, 5,000 people (romani, but also many foreigners) visit the Mercato every week end, spending an average of 30 Euros. Prices at the Mercato are kept lower than other food markets. Therefore, everybody wins and when you go, you see all smiling faces. What a pleasure!
At the Mercato you can find everything you need: bread, honey, meat, unpasturized milk, the wonderful Pecorino Romano, the freshest vegetables, grains and legumes, salumi, flowers and... EV Olive Oil from Lazio. Flaminio D'Urso makes Itranello, an EV Olive Oil monocultivar Itrana, a local olive from Lazio which will soon receive the DOP status. He also cures Itrana olives and when these are picked ripe and dark, they become the famous Olive di Gaeta. Flaminio gave me a bottle of Oil and a jar of olives to bring to NY. If you go to the Mercato, go to Flaminio, taste his olive oil and let me know if you like it as much as I do.
Camille is enjoying a few quite days in Roma where she is attending a school to learn Italian. But her culinary adventure does not stop: she is still looking for the Italy Best Foods (and coffee) and she is meeting with Gustiamo producers. Click here if you wish to read previous stories. In Roma, she pays a visit to Sant'Estachio, il Caffe':
I like to think of myself as somewhat of a coffee connoisseur. But in Italy, it’s a whole different story. From what I can tell, the majority of Italians drink caffè (what we would call “espresso”) with breakfast (for many, breakfast is only caffè), as an after-lunch pick-me-up, in early evening, and after dinner. By Italian standards, my one or two cups a day of watered down “caffè americano” with plenty of milk is as far from caffè as you can get. So I’ve been trying to take advantage of the “bar” (caffè bar, that is) on every corner, drinking as many cappuccini as possible before lunch (it’s strictly a morning beverage) and a caffè during the mid-afternoon slump as possible. When I first arrived I was impressed by everything, but now I’ve started to understand the difference between a perfectly balanced caffè and one that’s overly bitter or watery. And the caffè at Sant’ Eustachio is by far the best I’ve had. As I have been with every producer I’ve visited, I was really excited to visit the famous Sant’Eustachio in Rome.
I read about it in my “Food Wine Rome” travel guide and, as you might have noticed, they’ve been getting some great press lately. So although I was unable to visit them on a day when they would be roasting, I still felt fortunate to get a brief tour of where the magic happens. Raimondo took a quick break from the line at the cash register to show me the traditional, wood-fired coffee roaster (very few of which are in use today) and the bags and bags of pure arabica beans lining the walls. He explained that the entire roasting process takes only about 20 minutes, and that they have several different grinds (all of which are available through Gustiamo).
The best part of the visit, though, was getting to try the famous
caffè. It had bite but wasn’t overly bitter, was extremely sweet (just
how I like it, but you can get it “senza zucchero” if you prefer), and
the perfect strength. All in all, perfectly balanced.
And it’s worth visiting just to watch the barista at work – even when the line to get to the counter is three people deep, he works with determined precision and turns out the most attractive and best tasting drinks possible. As someone who’s done barista work, I appreciate the ability to make quality espresso even under pressure!
I look forward to taking my parents, who will be joining me in Rome, to Sant’ Eustachio and showing them the best caffè in town.
From beautiful Cilento to even more beautiful Molise. It was a long trip but all worth it. Below, Camille's post about her visit to Francesco Travaglini who makes Il Tratturello ev olive oil in Molise. Tratturello EV Olive Oil from new 2009-2010 harvest just arrived. We want you to experience Camlle's wonder and try it: 20% discount if you write the magic word "molise" in the special instruction box of your order with Gustiamo. This offer is valid until April 30th. And grazie!
I knew going into this that it would be an adventure, but I didn’t count on the Italian train system to ensure that it would be! It took six hours, four trains and a bus (the train workers were on strike for a few hours, hence the bus) to get from Paestum to Molise, a tiny province on the southeast coast of Italy. But I really shouldn’t complain: I couldn’t have been happier than sitting and watching the beautiful countryside speed (well, rumble is more like it) past. And I know that I just ranted about how beautiful Cilento is, but it doesn’t change the fact that Molise is now one of my favorite places, ever. With blue skies, fluffy clouds, and green rolling hills dotted with olive groves and yellow flowers, it finally felt like spring! And the small town of Termoli, with its expansive beach, beautiful centro storico set on a cliff above the coast, and multitude of restaurants is the ideal vacation spot. But even better than all of this was my visit to Francesco Travaligni’s olive groves to witness the care that goes into producing his Il Tratturello olive oil, one of Gustiamo’s best-selling products.
Immediately after picking me and Zac up from our room at the nearby agriturismo, Francesco began explaining the Molise is the perfect place for the production of olive oil because the climate is cold but not too cold and the rolling hills allow for the ideal amount of sun exposure. He drove us to his biggest olive grove containing 600 of his 1,000 trees, where his sheep (he also makes artisan pecorino and ricotta) spend their days eating grass and providing manure and compost. While we walked along the rows of trees, Francesco explained everything that goes into making sure his olive oil is the best around: he harvests his olives by hand in early October, when there are fewer olives but the quality is better, and he uses cold rather than warm water during extraction to ensure the best taste possible, even though warmer water produces more oil. He differs from his neighbors in these practices since most other farmers forgo quality for quantity.
And what does quality really mean? Well, Francesco explained that extra virgin olive oil must, by law, contain less than 0.8% acidity, but that his oil is much more balanced with around only 0.37% acidity. “Good” olive oil is not good enough for Francesco – even though his family have been olive growers (olivicoltori) for generations, Francesco went to school to make sure that his oil would be the best it could be. And his hard work pays off: I’ve tasted nothing more sublime that his exceedingly delicious olive oil drizzled over ricotta made that morning. I’m hungry just thinking of it!
But this is not the only reason why Francesco so fascinates and impresses me. He cares not only for the oil itself, but for the trees and their history. He brought me to another of his olive groves, this one much older. The trees had been through a lot, with cracks and bowed branches, but Francesco insisted that they were no less productive than their younger counterparts. He explained that the neighboring grove, also much older but owned by another olivicoltori, was being cut down and replaced by newer trees. Francesco believes this to be a complete disregard for the history that the trees keep alive and a result of ignorance about increased productivity.
And he has a strong case: the oldest tree in his orchard is believed to be about 500 years old. It towered above the rest, and I know this sounds ridiculous but there really was a strength and power about it. He said that he produced 70 bottles of olive oil from this one tree (about 30 litres of oil, compared to around 4 litres of oil per younger trees), the full profits from which went toward purchasing books for schoolchildren in Africa (which I found out only after I asked Francesco whether he kept some of the bottles for himself).
This is the real deal – everything Francesco does, from the care of his trees to the production of his oil is deeply rooted in a sense of community, history, and, perhaps most of all, taste. I have so much more to tell, but at the risk of writing a book I’ll stop here. But if you’re interested in knowing more, please don’t hesitate to contact me – I’m always happy to talk more about the wonderful foods I’ve tasted and producers I’ve visited!
People always talk about Tuscany as one of the most beautiful places in Italy (if not the world), and while I haven't been there yet I don't doubt it. But I'd like to add to the list of beautiful places in Italy: Paestum, in Cilento, Campagnia.
After eight days in crazy, over-the-top Napoli, the Cilento countryside felt like a break from reality. Even though it was cloudy and rainy (as it has been everyday), the overwhelming majesty (while cliché, that's not an exaggeration, I promise) of the mountains and valley stretching to the coast seemed magical. Pictures really don't do it justice. Nestled in these rolling hills is Maida Farm.
Although Francesco speaks only a tiny bit of English and I speak even less Italian, he welcomed Zac and me into his family's home and showed us generosity that, in his words, is only typical for southern Italians, but to us felt extraordinary. Through hand gestures and lots of pointing, Francesco led me on a tour of his factory and surrounding fields. He pointed out the pressure cooker where they blanch the freshly-picked vegetables, the grill where they grill artichokes (carciofi - I'll never get tired of that word!) and onions before jarring, and the machine that fills each jar with the highest-quality extra virgin olive oil. I watched his employees trim and cut artichokes in preparation for jarring.
It's all about capturing what's in season and preserving it so that it's enjoyable all year round. The fruits and vegetables are picked at their prime, and all are specific to the Cilento region. That day, it happened to be artichokes and onions (Camille and onions crates, left). Next season, Francesco said he will move on to tomatoes, eggplants, and other summer crops. And the freshness is obvious. I can say that with confidence, because Francesco's generosity didn't stop with a tour of his production - he also invited Zac and me into his home for lunch, dinner and breakfast.
I know it's good when the producer himself eats his own products at every one of his family's meals! And so would I, if I had a storage room full of Maida's amazing products. I guess there's always the option of stocking up...
ps from Gustiamo - we want you to try all products by Masseria Maida. If you buy at least 3 items by Masseria Maida, we'll add a jar of yellow tomato puree, on us. Magic word (to be added in the special instruction box of your shopping cart) is "Camille". Why? Cammille loved all Francesco's products and thought the yellow tomatoes were very interesting, tasteful and perfect for a light tomato sauce. We want you to try them, too. This "promozione" is valid until April 30. Grazie.
Sergio’s hospitality didn’t end with Faella – he also made sure that I had the best meal of my life! After visiting the pastificio, we drove through the surrounding towns to Santa Maria La Carita' where Sergio dropped me off at Sabatino of Terra Amore & Fantasia tomatoes’ home, where a Slow Foods meeting was in progress. As the meeting ended, notepads were whisked away and the table was set for the 7 course meal that was to come. I joined the others at the table and stared in amazement as course after course was placed in front of me. My favorite by far was the lasagna made with artichokes rather than pasta, smothered in sauce made from Sabatino’s amazing tomatoes. I could have just eaten a vat of the sauce and been very, very happy!
The meal centered around the carciofo violetto di Castellammare, a beautiful, red colored artichoke specific to the region. After I had eaten so much I couldn’t have swallowed another bite, Sabatino took me to his artichoke and tomato fields, set against a backdrop of rolling mountaintops. Although tomatoes aren’t in season so only artichokes were growing at the moment, Sabatino explained that he follows time-tested methods of alternating fields to ensure that his crops are grown sustainably with constant soil regeneration. He truly cares about the land and his product, and it shows!
I can’t thank Sergio and Sabatino enough for showing me their amazing products. I can only expect that Gustiamo’s producers I have yet to visit will be just as welcoming. There are many more amazing meals to come!
Gustiamo proudly announces: Pasta Faella will soon be in our warehouse!!! Camille pays a visit to the historic pastificio in Gragnano and writes her lovely journal, below.
I’ve been looking forward to visiting Faella, a pastificio located in Gragnano, a historical center of pasta production, for a month now. So when Sergio came by the hostel Sunday morning at 9 am to pick me up, I couldn’t believe I was actually on my way! Luckily, being a Sunday, the roads were relatively clear and we made it to Gragnano from Napoli in about 30 minutes. Along the way Sergio pointed out Mount Vesuvius, Capri, and the Sorrento coast. We wound through the tiny streets of the surrounding communities, including his hometown, Castellammare, before beginning the descent into Gragnano through the Valle dei Mulini (above), a ravine that makes Gragnano perfectly suited for pasta production (Gragnano was the first center of pasta production in mainland Italy, and Faella has been around for a century . Today, there are only 8 or 9 pastifici left in Gragnano, but Faella is committed to offering the same quality of pasta they always have – this is pasta with a history, something we don’t see much of in the U.S.).
Because Gragnano is at the base of the valley, between the mountains and the sea, a strong wind blows through the valley and the tiny, curving streets of the town, where the pastificio of old used to grind their semolina grain to flour and dry their pasta. Via Roma (left) is the most famous of these streets, and 50 or 60 years ago it was lined with hanging pasta. Today, due to government restrictions on hygiene, you won’t see any pasta on the street. But Gragnano still has the advantage: the water from the nearby mountains is still used and the climate of the town is well suited for pasta production.
Sergio explained the difference that the temperature makes: industrial pasta is dried at temperatures around 100 degrees Celsius (212 degrees Fahrenheit), whereas Faella dries it pasta at around 48-50 degrees (118-122 Fahrenheit). Because the temperature is so much lower, it takes a lot longer to complete the production process: around two days start to finish, and the drying can take anywhere from 20 to 50 hours depending on the length and thickness of the pasta. But the extra time is worth it – have you noticed that when you pour a box or bag of mass-produced pasta into boiling water, the first smell you get is one of the packaging it came in? (very cardboard or plastic-esque). Pasta dried at lower temperatures keeps the taste and smell of its semolina much better than pasta dried at hotter temperatures. You’ll have to try it to experience the difference!
Faella is every bit “artigianale” - while they have several machines (mostly to mix the semolina with water to form the dough), they also do a lot of the work by hand. The pastificio produces around 2,000 kilo (around 4,400 pounds) of pasta per day with around 7 employees, so while small-scale, they really invest the time and effort necessary to make the best product possible. They use trafila al bronzo (bronze plates) which gives the pasta its rough texture and they make around 40 different shapes of pasta, corte (short) and lunghe (long), many of which I’ve never before seen or heard of.
Since I know how hard it is to find anything other than industrially produced pasta in the U.S., and now that I understand the difference with artisanal pasta, I’m really looking forward to having Faella’s pasta available through Gustiamo!
Sergio’s tour of Gragnano and his pastificio was unforgettable, but that’s not even the end of my day – there’s an 7 course meal to tell you about and a visit with Sabatino of Terra Amore & Fantasia! To be continued...
I'm happy to report that I have safely arrived in Napoli! My boyfriend, Zac, and I will be spending a week at Hostel of the Sun, which I already love. The staff are so nice and we've met so many interesting people from around the world. We're staying here for an entire week, so I'm sure there will be many more people to meet and many more local favorites to visit.
My first two days in Italia have been amazing but completely exhausting. After traveling for over 24 hours, I was asleep by 9 pm. But after 12 hours of sleep I had more than enough energy to visit Napoli's Centro Storico, which was just as frantic and awe-inspiring as I'd hoped.
Zac and I haven't been here long and already I don't want to leave! I've wanted to come to Napoli since I was young for many reasons: the food, the sights, the chaos, and I am NOT disappointed. There's nothing I love more than pizza, so of course I'm overwhelmed by the number of pizzerias we pass - I wish I could try every one! And the sfogliatella (although hard to pronounce) are amazing.
Gustiamo has many producers in the region and I definitely understand why. The ingredients are pure, unadulterated and delicious. I'm looking forward to my visit with Sergio Cinque at Pastificio Faella, Enzo at Nettuno, Franco Vastola at Maida Farm, and Francesco Travaglini at Parco dei Buoi.
We have many more sights to visit and many more meals to experience, so I'm sure you'll hear from me again shortly!
It will come as no surprise after my last post that I love food. I love Italian food. But really, I guess I should clarify and say that I love Italian American food, and I'm only guessing (a good guess, I might add) that I love Italian food. I never understood the difference until I spent 10 short days in Genova and Milano last summer with forty other Italian Americans through NIAF's "Voyage of Discovery." We compared our favorites, gravy for the New Jerseyans and cioppino for the Californians, to the menu items few of us could pronounce. We realized that much of what we knew to be Italian was in fact a product of many generations of Italian immigrants adjusting to the new culture in which they found themselves.
It's like that film, Big Night, where Tony Shalhoub and Stanley Tucci play Italian immigrant brothers trying to make it in the U.S. with their intensely "authentic" but poorly appreciated Italian restaurant. I love this movie. I find it funny, touching, and altogether entertaining. Shalhoub's character, Primo, cannot part with the foods he loves, but his brother Secondo (Tucci) understands that Americans don't want foods from his and Primo's homeland, but food made with ingredients and tastes they already recognize as "Italian." Although the film is set in the days of Louie Prima, before the majority of Americans became obsessed with "authentic ethnic foods," this desire for recognizable tastes is still around. What's a better example than Olive Garden?
Of course, I think that Italian food in the U.S. is good in its own right (well, maybe not Olive Garden). My favorites include Bottega Louie in Los Angeles, Tutti Mangia in Claremont, CA, and Phil's Fish Market in Moss Landing, CA. But I also understand the pleasure of having truly Italian products and ingredients. Not to say that I claim to understand what "authentic Italian" actually is, but that's a long and unanswerable question that I'll leave to the food studies classroom (for now). It's also not to say that Italian food and ingredients (from Italy, that is) aren't accessible in the U.S. Gustiamo, for example, gives us the chance to experience products otherwise inaccessible to most Americans. I'm lucky enough to have the chance to visit Gustiamo's producers and learn more about what it means to be a small producer of an ancient and time-tested, truly Italian product.
For now, I'm eating as much Mexican food as possible until I leave southern California.
