Living la dolce vita

Supper for my sister and I last night was farfalle pasta with puréed Savoy cabbage and garlic, and extra virgin olive oil. Italian food, right? Well, yes and no. A single dish can’t sum up the nation’s cuisine because true Italian gastronomy is regional by nature. So you could say our supper was, not so much Italian, but Tuscan – the farfalle would most likely be found on a menu in Tuscany close to where the olives for the oil had been harvested.

In the more northerly provinces bordered by Slovenia, Austria, Switzerland and France, polenta and rice are more common than wheat; butter, cream and mountain cheeses are used to add substance to dishes; spices such as nutmeg and saffron add flavour. The lighter food that is most often thought of as quintessentially Italian comes from southern Italy: tomato and Mozzarella pizzas; fish stews; disarmingly simple, delectable pasta. The south is the proper home of cucina povera – peasant cooking – drenched in citrus flavours and rich with fresh herbs.

The food of each region might be distinctive, but this doesn’t mean you need to fill your kitchen with different sets of ingredients. You’ll be prepared to cook Italian food as long as you have these staples: a pungent extra virgin olive oil for dipping bread into and for dressing salads and raw veg; a packet of egg-yellow tagliatelle or pappardelle; the best durum wheat linguine, penne or spaghetti; and some Parmesan or Pecorino.

The reason you shouldn’t add too much to your everyday store cupboard is that Italians still tend to shop twice daily at the market; if they have time they will cook every meal from scratch. This means they rely on impeccably fresh ingredients that benefit from being, as it were, underdressed. Of course it is scarcely ever possible for us to do exactly the same. But we can aspire to cook according to the spirit of Italy. Italians manage to combine the principles of cooking fresh, seasonal, healthy food with other imperatives. They are imaginative and generous chefs. What else could you say about a nation whose expatriate community would, in the 1970s, flock to delicatessens in Old Compton Street, London, and buy crates of grapes to make their own wine?

To approach cooking as an Italian does, you buy the best raw materials you can afford. If your means won’t stretch to the cut of meat you’d like, you have a simpler but still nourishing meal; zuppa pavese, perhaps, a broth with bread, eggs and grated cheese; or maybe spaghetti aglio e olio, the very quickest and best of meals.

In Britain there has never been a better time to look to the Italian model of food culture. More than ever, we are aware of the advantages of purchasing local and seasonal vegetables and fruit. This in itself is an Italian way of thinking. Why use mealy, flavourless tomatoes in December when, come June or July, you can savour a burstingly ripe home-grown tomato in a salad with torn fragrant basil leaves and spicy green olive oil? In winter soups, you can always use good whole plum tomatoes from a tin. And that is another thing. The Italian-thinking cook knows how to preserve the seasonal glut. Think of all those lovely pickled artichoke hearts, baby broad beans and aubergines; the salted anchovies that will last for ever in your store cupboard.

By cooking in an honest and authentic way, true to the area in which you live, conscious of your means, making the most of the time you have in the kitchen, you are halfway to cooking the Italian way. Take pleasure in mealtimes; Italians have a much less complicated relationship to cooking and eating than we’re used to in Britain today. By relaxing, by letting time and sense direct our choices, we should, without too much trouble, discover that Italy has found us – without us consciously having looked at all.