October 28, 2011

Grottaminarda, Italy. September, 1984

Talk about slow food! I love this woman making tomato paste the old-fashioned way. I saw her as I was walking through this small town where I’d come by bus from Naples to visit with Nick’s cousins. She was out in the street in front of her home, spreading the ever-thickening paste over these planks, allowing it to evaporate further in the warmth of the late-summer sun. I suspect she learned this from her mother, who learned if from her mother. (She wasn’t given much to conversation so I didn’t ask.) Imagine how good this must taste, especially when winter descends on this hilltown, when summer is just a bygone time whose memory stirs up the taste of, well, of tomatoes.

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