

Italy isn't a country. It's an argument, and food is how it makes its case. The author knows this, all the way through to her stomach, and this book is the proof.
Starting with the Aeneid (Aeneas arriving on Italian soil and sitting down to eat, because of course) and ending somewhere near the carbonaragate chaos, she traces Italian identity not through borders or battles, but through what got served up.
It's gastronomic history as a lens for everything else: class, empire, resistance, crime, migration. She doesn't flinch from the more complex threads, nor does she fail to give the Italian kitchen's unsung contributors their (overdue) due.
A meal is never just a meal: it's a whole civilization arguing with itself. For history lovers who eat, and eaters who think. Italy will never taste the same.
I received an early copy courtesy of the publishers via Netgalley. All opinions are mine alone.
Italy isn't a country. It's an argument, and food is how it makes its case. The author knows this, all the way through to her stomach, and this book is the proof.
Starting with the Aeneid (Aeneas arriving on Italian soil and sitting down to eat, because of course) and ending somewhere near the carbonaragate chaos, she traces Italian identity not through borders or battles, but through what got served up.
It's gastronomic history as a lens for everything else: class, empire, resistance, crime, migration. She doesn't flinch from the more complex threads, nor does she fail to give the Italian kitchen's unsung contributors their (overdue) due.
A meal is never just a meal: it's a whole civilization arguing with itself. For history lovers who eat, and eaters who think. Italy will never taste the same.
I received an early copy courtesy of the publishers via Netgalley. All opinions are mine alone.