Italian Food Quotes

“Second, and contrary to what some foreigners seem to think, not every pasta dish should be doused with grated cheese: you must not sprinkle cheese on pasta with any kind of cheese; ... and most Italians would rather die than put grated cheese on pasta made with fresh tomatoes.”
― Sari Gilbert, My Home Sweet Rome: Living (and loving) in Italy's Eternal City

“And there are those who prefer cappuccino, which in turn can be served in several varieties... . Some want it scuro, with less milk, some want it chiaro, with note milk, and some prefer it workout foam, senna schiuma, and there is generally a shaker of cocoa powder somewhere available for those eager for a bit of chocolate. Caffelatte, a hot drink we Americans mysteriously have dubbed a “latte” (which in Italian simply means “milk”), comes in only one variety and is a morning drink, as is a cappuccino.”
― Sari Gilbert, My Home Sweet Rome: Living (and loving) in Italy's Eternal City

“The carciofini were good at the moment, no doubt about it, particularly the romagnolo, a variety of artichoke exclusive to the region, so sweet and tender it could even be eaten raw. Puntarelle, a local bitter chicory, would make a heavenly salad. In the Vini e Olio he found a rare Torre Ercolana, a wine that combined Cabernet and Merlot with the local Cesanese grape. The latter had been paired with the flavors of Roman cuisine for over a thousand years: they went together like an old married couple. There was spring lamb in abundance, and he was able to track down some good abbachio, suckling lamb that had been slaughtered even before it had tasted grass.
From opportunities like these, he began to fashion a menu, letting the theme develop in his mind. A Roman meal, yes, but more than that. A springtime feast, in which every morsel spoke of resurgence and renewal, old flavors restated with tenderness and delicacy, just as they had been every spring since time began. He bought a bottle of oil that came from a tiny estate he knew of, a fresh pressing whose green, youthful flavors tasted like a bowl of olives just off the tree. He hesitated before a stall full of fat white asparagus from Bassano del Grappa, on the banks of the fast-flowing river Brenta. It was outrageously expensive, but worth it for such quality, he decided, as the stallholder wrapped a dozen of the pale spears in damp paper and handed it to Bruno with a flourish, like a bouquet of the finest flowers.
His theme clarified itself the more he thought about it. It was to be a celebration of youth---youth cut short, youth triumphant, youth that must be seized and celebrated.”
― Anthony Capella, The Food of Love

“She hummed along with the radio while cutting thick slices from the ring of ciambellone she remembered from her childhood, but it was close. She fixed the sweet, lemony bread the way she always did, the slices spread with mascarpone and sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar.
"You're a natural in the kitchen," Pop always said.
Being good at cooking was nothing special. She wanted to be good at Latin, at vector analysis, at Jungian psychology. Not cooking.
Yet she always seemed to be feeding people in spite of herself. In high school, she was the one who brought snacks to study tables or booster meetings. By senior year, she had football players eating cichetti and the students council debating the merits of different types of olive oil.”
― Susan Wiggs, Summer by the Sea

“I filled my mouth with spaghetti and thanked God for the Italians. Spaghetti, pizza, ice cream. If they weren't so busy making love and whizzing around on Vespas, they'd probably rule the world.”
― Abbi Waxman, The Garden of Small Beginnings

“When we first started dating, my talent in the kitchen was a turn-on. The prospect of me in the kitchen, wearing a skimpy apron and holding a whisk in my hand- he thought that was sexy. And, as someone with little insight into how to work her own sex appeal, I pounced on the opportunity to make him want and need me.
I spent four days preparing my first home-cooked meal for him, a dinner of wilted escarole salad with hot bacon dressing, osso bucco with risotto Milanese and gremolata, and a white-chocolate toasted-almond semifreddo for dessert. At the time, I lived with three other people in a Columbia Heights town house, so I told all of my housemates to make themselves scarce that Saturday night. When Adam showed up at my door, as the rich smell of braised veal shanks wafted through the house, I greeted him holding a platter of prosciutto-wrapped figs, wearing nothing but a slinky red apron. He grabbed me by the waist and pushed me into the kitchen, slowly untying the apron strings resting on my rounded hips, and moments later we were making love on the tiled kitchen floor. Admittedly, I worried the whole time about when I should start the risotto and whether he'd even want osso bucco once we were finished, but it was the first time I'd seduced someone like that, and it was lovely.
Adam raved about that meal- the rich osso bucco, the zesty gremolata, the sweet-and-salty semifreddo- and that's when I knew cooking was my love language, my way of expressing passion and desire and overcoming all of my insecurities. I learned that I may not be comfortable strutting through a room in a tight-fitting dress, but I can cook one hell of a brisket, and I can do it in the comfort of my own home, wearing an apron and nothing else.
Adam loved my food, and he loved watching me work in the kitchen even more, the way my cheeks would flush from the heat of the stove and my hair would twist into delicate red curls along my hairline. As the weeks went by, I continued to seduce him with pork ragu and roasted chicken, creamed spinach and carrot sformato, cannolis and brownies and chocolate-hazelnut cake.”
― Dana Bate, The Girls' Guide to Love and Supper Clubs

“She had never eaten food like this before. No: she had never eaten before. It was as if these flavors had always existed, had always been there in her imagination, but now she was tasting them properly for the very first time. Each course was more intense than the last. The spaghetti was coated in a thick sauce of meat, tomatoes, and wine, rich, pungent, and sticky. The lamb, by contrast, was pink and sweet, so tender it seemed to dissolve in her mouth. It was served without vegetables, but afterward Tommaso brought the first of the contorni to the table: a whole artichoke, slathered in warm olive oil and lemon juice and sprinkled with chopped mint. Laura licked every drop of oil off her fingers, amazed by the depth of the flavor.”
― Anthony Capella, The Food of Love

“His antipasto was the classic Roman fritto misto---tiny morsels of mixed offal, including slivers of poached brains and liver, along with snails, artichokes, apples, pears, and bread dipped in milk, all deep-fried in a crisp egg-and-bread-crumb batter. This was to be followed by a primo of rigatoni alla pajata---pasta served with intestines from a baby calf so young that they were still full of its mother's milk, simmered with onions, white wine, tomatoes, cloves, and garlic. For the secondo they would be having milza in umido--- a stewed lamb's spleen, cooked with sage, anchovies, and pepper. A bitter salad of puntarelle al' acciuga---chicory sprouts with anchovy---would cleanse the palate, to be followed by a simple dolce of fragole in aceto, gorella strawberries in vinegar.”
― Anthony Capella, The Food of Love

“Take one of the dishes you will be eating tonight, fritto misto. The old butcher who sold me the meat was most insistent that it should be cooked the old way---so brains, for example, are always poached in vegetables, then left to cool before being sliced and deep-fried in batter. But then you think, this batter is not so different from Japanese tempura, and tempura can be served with a sweet chile and soy dipping sauce, so why not make an Italian version of that, perhaps with balsamic vinegar from Modena instead of soy, and see what happens”
― Anthony Capella, The Food of Love

“The mood at the table is convivial throughout the meal. A dried-sausage and prosciutto plate gives way to briny sardines, which give way to truffle-covered gnocchi topped with a plethora of herbs. Richness cut with acidity, herbaceousness and cool breezes at every turn. A simple ricotta and lemon fettuccine topped with sharp pecorino is the perfect counterpoint.
I am not driving, and apparently Anjana isn't, either, so we both order a Cynar and soda. "How can we digest all the pasta without another digestif?" we exclaim to the waiter, giddily. Meat, carbs, sunshine, and lingering music coming from across the plaza have stirred us up, and soon our dessert--- some sort of chocolate cake with walnuts--- arrives. It's dense in that fudgey way a flourless concoction can be, like it has molded itself into the perfection of pure chocolate. The crunch of the walnuts is a counterweight, drawing me deeper into the flavor.
I haven't been inspired by food like this in a long time, despite spending so much time thinking about food. The atmosphere at work has sucked so much of the joy out of thinking about recipes, but I find myself taking little notes on my phone for recipe experimentation when I get home. The realization jolts me.
I've always felt like I have the perfect job for a creative who happens to also be left-brained. Recipes are an intriguing puzzle every single time. Today's fettuccine is the perfect example. The tartness of the lemon paired with the smooth pasta and pillowy ricotta is the no-brainer part. But the trickier puzzle piece--- the one that is necessary to connect the rest of the puzzle to the whole--- is the light grating of the pecorino on top. That tang, that edge, that cutting spice works in tangent with the lemon to give the dish its power. Lemon alone wouldn't have been enough. Pecorino alone wouldn't have been enough. The dish is so simple, but it has to fit together perfectly to work. These little moments, these exciting eurekas, are the elation I normally get in my job.”
― Ali Rosen, Recipe for Second Chances

“There is a huge pot of Sunday gravy on the stove, a rich tomato sauce full of pork neck and sausage and oxtails, fragrant with onion and garlic, and hiding a pound of whole peeled carrots. The carrots are Teresa's family recipe secret for a bit of sweetness without grinding up the vegetable, which changes the texture of the sauce. They'll be fished out at the end, soft and imbued with the meaty savoriness of the sauce, and will serve as a special "cook's treat," drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with coarse salt and ground pepper.”
― Stacey Ballis, How to Change a Life

“A chunk of parmigiano reggiano, eaten with a pear or some kind of fruit compote, is truly a dish fit for a king.”
― Sari Gilbert

“In fact, many Italians consider cappuccino or caffelatte to be breakfast; nowadays they’ll give their kids cornflakes or some kind of cereal but they, themselves, as their morning meal will have only caffelatte or cappuccino with a cornetto or some kind of cookies. (Be aware that the genetic word for cookies in Italian is biscotti, and that this has nothing to do with that in the US are now called “biscotti” and which, instead, are an oversized version of the tozzetti or cantuccini some Italians like to dip in vin santo and eat at the end of a meal.”
― Sari Gilbert

“How'm I doing, Mamma?
Celesta, twenty years gone, would undoubtedly approve. The restaurant smelled like the kitchen of Rosa's childhood; the menu featured many of the dishes Celesta had once prepared with warmth, intense flavors and a certain uncomplicated contentment Rosa constantly tried to recapture. She wanted the restaurant to serve Italian comfort food, the kind that fed hidden hungers and left people full of fond remembrances.”
― Susan Wiggs, Summer by the Sea

“There was a stampede to the food- panzanella with tomatoes and bread, every conceivable variety of pasta, grilled sausages, fresh fish roasted in foil, Napoleon pastries and reginatta made with creamy half-melted ice cream.”
― Susan Wiggs, Summer by the Sea

“She was relieved at the conclusion when everyone seemed thrilled with the menu for the reception: tinker mackerel alla Santa Nicola, penne pasta with tomato, arugula and mozzarella, arancini, pizette, egg pasta with lobster and asparagus, Guinea hen with vegetables and a towering Italian cream cake.”
― Susan Wiggs, Summer by the Sea

“Hot peppers are to Calabria what Sangiovese is to Tuscany.”
― Pietros Maneos

“Bruno eased one of the cheeses to the surface and inhaled. Instantly he was transported to the tiny pastures of the Castelli Romani, the hilly countryside around Rome. There was a touch of silage in the scent of the cheese, from winter feed, but there was fresh grass, too, and sunlight, and the faintest tang of thyme where it grew wild in the meadows and had been eaten by the sheep along with the grass. He didn't really need any more food, but the ricotta was so perfect that he knew he would find a place for it somewhere in his meal, perhaps served as a dessert with a dusting of cinnamon and a dab of sweet honey.”
― Anthony Capella, The Food of Love

“Closer to the sun than any of its surroundings, the town glimmered. The spires looked like the tips of a royal crown. Skilled artisans had built wonderful, terraced homes and small flats overlooking gardens and fields under a clear cloudless sky. The air was filled with the aroma of eggplant parmigiana being roasted and fried garlic from pasta aglio e olio. Every pantry had a tall, glass bottle of local olive oil and a cupboard full of sugo jars.”
― Steven Keith Hunter, Relish In the Tread

“Wait, is that...
... a Calzone?!"
*A calzone is meat and cheese folded together in a pouch of pizza dough, depending on the area of Italy, calzones are either baked or deep-fried.
"Aren't calzones usually stuffed with salami, mozzarella cheese and other pizza toppings?"
"Ah, I know!
Yes, I was right! This calzone is stuffed with curry! Then this dish is "Italian-Style Curry Bread!"
Oh-ho! This dish is already interesting, being so different from all the others! Now let's see what it tastes like."
"Mph! Th-this flavor... tomatoes?
The curry is bursting with the rich tanginess of tomatoes!"
"Yep.
I made that curry using only water I extracted from tomatoes."
"Tomato water only?!
Are you saying you used no other liquid in this curry at all?!"
Yes, sir! See, if you stuff a pot full of tomatoes and turn on the heat, you can get a surprising amount of water out of them. I blended a special mix of spices that works with the tart tomato water...
... and made a thick curry sauce that's full of the rich flavor of tomatoes.
The crust is a sourdough I made using my family's handmade, natural grape yeast too."
The outer crust is crispy and flakey...
...while the inside is chewy and mildly sweet. ”
― Yūto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 7 [Shokugeki no Souma 7]

“Platters upon platters of cured meats quickly disappear, followed by a salad of roasted artichokes, followed by a ravioli with a creamy truffle sauce, followed by a lamb chop with an Umbrian pesto. Everyone gushes over the food--- it is mountainous and never ending, a salty, savory parade of spring produce and aged ingredients. It is satiating down to my bones.”
― Ali Rosen, Recipe for Second Chances

“This particular shop uses three types of Sicilian pistachios and slow roasts them for twenty-four hours. Forty-seven judges from a gelato university crossed the world trying to find the absolute best, and they picked this one. So how could I not do that?"
"'Gelato university'?" He chuckles.
"I know, right? I definitely missed my calling," I reply, and I love how his laugh gets a little deeper.
"But at least you didn't miss the gelato."
"Exactly!" I smile, relishing the lightness between us once again.
"What else is on your list?" he asks.
"Definitely more lentils, and this region is known for truffles, so I have to do that. But they're also known for their meats here, which is interesting. Obviously the cured meats we're used to when we think of Italian charcuteries is here, but also a lot of roasted pork as well, and boar. And sausage! I read a recipe for amatriciana with sausage instead of guanciale. Umbria's actually one of the few regions of Italy without any coastline---"
"So you did no research at all before coming?" he says, sarcasm peppered in with a smile.
"Please, I'm just getting warmed up. I haven't even gotten into the olive oil varietals. And pesto! That pesto we had at the dinner last night on the lamb chops--- that pesto that has marjoram and walnuts instead of the one we're used to from Liguria, with basil and pine nuts.”
― Ali Rosen, Recipe for Second Chances

“A buffet with a mix of Indian and Italian food beckons. It's like a fever dream from the bonkers corners of my recipe-obsessed mind--- samosas stuffed with zucchini blossoms and creamy ricotta; chapatis with tomato and mint chutneys made with local produce; artichoke pakoras topped with cilantro and ginger; local truffle panipuris, and even more truffles on the creamy turmeric lentils. There's a chef slicing a porchetta that's been rolled up with cardamom, cumin, black pepper, amchur, and coriander. The air is spiced and herbaceous, and I dive in the moment I see others partaking.”
― Ali Rosen, Recipe for Second Chances

“We try to tackle all the room service we ordered for breakfast, mostly zoning in on the squat, cheesy bread, torta di pasqua. The mixture of pecorino, rich butter, and bright-yellow eggs arrived with perfect timing, the yeasty hungover cure everyone was craving.”
― Ali Rosen, Recipe for Second Chances

“Saro, a chef, had always said he married an American, an African American woman, who had the culinary soul of an Italian. In his mind, I was Italian the way all people should be Italian: at the table. Which to him meant appreciating fresh food, forging memories and traditions while passing the bread and imbibing local wine.”
― Tembi Locke, From Scratch: A Memoir of Love, Sicily, and Finding Home

“The second dish is so inviting. I plunge my fork into a piece of soft squid, devouring too much of the North African-influenced couscous dish. There are so many potential key ingredients in here: any one of the different seafoods, even the flecks of marigold-orange zest that add a hit of tangy citrus.”
― Lizzy Dent, Just One Taste

“The next dish arrived: seaweed, scampi, and squid, sautéed in garlic and butter, served with a simple broth, followed by a modest bowl of tortellini topped with minced herbs. Before taking a bite, Cassie photographed the plate and examined it closely.
"I've read about this dish," she said, suddenly remembering an entry in James's journal. "It's like Italian xiaolongbao. This is the chef's signature dish."
"Well, let's give it a go."
Cassie scooped up one of the glistening pieces of pasta in a gilded spoon, so that she could examine it at eye level. The pasta was so thin that it was almost sheer, barely containing the liquid inside. She put it into her mouth and pushed her tongue to the roof of her palate, releasing the warm and unctuous carbonara sauce in a quick explosion of cream and salty pork.”
― Emily Arden Wells, Eat Post Like

“Waiters carried trays of Campari spritz cocktails that looked like glowing red orbs, served with slices of fresh orange, and guests nibbled on canapés as they visited the different tables covered in decadent displays: seafood towers filled with shrimp, snow crab, oysters, clams, and freshly boiled langoustine tails, six large copper pots filled with different kinds of risotto simmering at a low temperature, intricate, multicolored stained-glass raviolis stuffed with smoked salmon and cream cheese, and a bread display that looked like an abstract sculpture.”
― Emily Arden Wells, Eat Post Like

“She's keeping it simple and luxurious, in line with Cecily's menu--- mozzarella and tomato salad, duck lasagna, and chocolate mousse for dessert--- but she's made a few tweaks. The salad has evolved into homemade ricotta and roast tomato with homemade bread. The tomatoes have been slow-roasting for hours, with thyme, olive oil, and garlic, until they're sweet, jammy, and fragrant. After Nick had canceled on Tuesday, she'd ended up spending the evening practicing making ricotta. She'd been through half a dozen muslins and piles of rubbery, beige curds before finally mastering the technique--- and tonight a bowl of smooth, creamy cheese sits on the counter as proof.
The lasagna feels like it's taken an entire decade to make, though in reality it's only been six hours, three for the soffritto, another two spent braising the duck legs in red wine, another hour once the meat had fallen off the bone, making a rich, thick sauce to be layered between pasta and smothered in Parmesan and mozzarella.
Kate's upgraded the chocolate mousse with cocoa nibs and fresh raspberries. She's licked the spoon a few too many times, but what in this world is more delicious than chocolate melted into double cream?”
― Vicky Zimmerman, Miss Cecily's Recipes for Exceptional Ladies

“Secretly I collected menus, stolen from tables. Recipes, clipped from magazines, dishes I would never make. As we travelled, the dishes changed. I whispered their names like magic spells. Milan was mondeghili, served in a twist of paper, and machetes, those puffy rolls that look like blowsy roses. Naples was pasta alla Genovese, and pizza with olives and anchovies, and Rome was artichokes in oil, and cicoria, with garlic and chili, and twenty kinds of pasta. Berlin was Currywurst and beer, and blueberry pancakes, and sauerkraut. And New York was pieces of everything, brought over by generations of immigrants to remind themselves of home.”
― Joanne Harris, Vianne