Cibo: [CHEE-bo] A noun. Any substance that provides nourishment and energy when eaten or drunk. A source of sustenance, nutrition and a variety of tastes. Chews, gulps and "mmm's." Clinks of glasses and plates.
Ahhh, cibo: the Italian word for food. The word that transformed my life.
I used to be the pickiest kid on the block: I hated tuna fish, cream cheese, Brussels sprouts, broccoli, string beans — let's get real: any vegetable that wasn't peas — and practically everything that ended in "berry." I used to groan at hamburgers, I couldn't wrap my head around the difference between fried and scrambled eggs, and why on Earth was there a cherry on my ice cream?
When I packed my bags back in 2010 to study in Italy, that gastronomical boot of the world, it was time for me to learn to appreciate food. Lactose-intolerant? Too bad mozzarella, Parmigiano-Reggiano and ricotta dominate the mountains of pasta. Hate tomatoes? A laughable crime in the eyes of the Italians. With an unlimited meal plan my first two years of college, I had never actually cooked a proper dinner for myself. What the heck was I supposed to do now, living in an apartment in Rome with five strangers and no microwave? (Seriously, I had never felt such culture shock before that moment.)
Needless to say, I realized really quickly that I was either going to learn how to cook, starve or waste countless Euros on snacks that would only make my stomach ache. I chose Option A, and though there were kitchen mishaps — undercooked pasta, overcooked meat and a fire (no joke) — I learned to make food that, though it wasn't genuine Italian cuisine but rather American spins on Italian ingredients, satisfied my appetite and eventually impressed my fellow expats.
Since then — while returning to America, heading back over to Europe for two months and then living off-campus, with a few hundred hours of the Daily in between — cooking and enjoying meals with my friends and family became an utmost passion. When I'm bored, I browse through my cookbook for new recipes. When I get stressed, I turn to the kitchen. My housemates last semester would find me at all hours before the stove, whipping up chicken soup, banana muffins, meatloaf and mashed potatoes … even a 20-pound turkey. I love cooking.
I want to pass this passion onto you. I want to illustrate how cooking should never come off as a chore but rather something fun that creates an edible work of art.
Don't believe me? Give my pasta e fagioli a try. This was the first dish that I made in Rome and is now one of my favorite meals.
Ingredients:
3 tbsp. olive or vegetable oil
2 cloves of fresh garlic, chopped, or 1 tbsp. minced garlic
Half of an onion, diced
1 cup of uncooked elbow macaroni
1 can of beans, drained and rinsed — I prefer kidney or cannellini beans
Either 12 grape tomatoes, quartered, or half a can of diced tomatoes, drained
In a saucepan on high heat, bring water, a dash of salt and 1 tbsp. of oil to a boil. When the water boils, add the macaroni and cook for 10 minutes or to your liking, stirring occasionally. Drain the pasta and set aside.
Meanwhile, heat 2 tbsp. of the oil in a separate skillet and once hot, add the onion and garlic and sauté until the onion is browned. Add the beans and tomatoes and bring to a simmer.
Throw in the pasta, coating it with the mixture, and serve.
It's a tasty start. Buonappetito!
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NikiKrieg is a senior who is majoring in Italian studies and history. She can be reached at Nicole.Krieg@tufts.edu.
