The Years of Living Dangerously
A little red wine helps with dealing with the red tape
Welcome to my fourth monthly post of my culinary memoir- Simply Divina: Becoming Italian One Recipe At A Time. Thank you for subscribing, I appreciate the love.
When you become a paying subscriber, you have access to all the archives, which include the guides to the Markets of Italy, which I created last year and my ebook, Secrets From My Tuscan Kitchen. This newsletter series is recipe heavy, especially this year that I am celebrating my 40th year in Italy. Cook along with me and become a little more Italian every day!
1985-1987 The Work Experience
Many Americans use the term expat when they move to a foreign country. In reality, we are all immigrants. Just as the Italian families moved to the USA , many people flee their countries due to war, famine, or simply looking for a better life. Choosing to move and having the money to start over is not how everyone does it, but you still are expatriating or immigrating.
I originally came with a student visa to study for a month in 1984. I stayed on, working illegally, through December and then returned in April of 1985. I don’t remember if I applied for a simple tourist visa for three months. At the time, I remember people leaving Italy, going to another nearby country, and then coming back in and being entitled to another three-month visa. Now I know that doesn’t work. You have to return to your country and reapply.
I really thought I was going to be living in France, but when I arrived in Florence, it stole my heart. I always say I fell in love with Firenze and then with a Florentine.
When I met Andrea, I knew I wanted to stay. I dreamed of opening a cooking school to teach the traditional recipes of Florence, which wasn’t the Italian food I had experienced in California. Before I could do that, I had to learn the language better and master the recipes.
I began to buy cooking magazines, which helped me learn culinary Italian and, at the same time, learn the original recipes.
I was given a copy of Artusi, The Art of Eating Well. A Practical Manual for Families.
It seemed like an upper-class cookbook, perhaps for the maids to learn how to cook.
I ran into a similar situation when I took cooking classes in Florence. I went to the Cordon Bleu, thinking it was associated with the school in Paris.