Why there is no such thing as Italian Food

Very often, especially when foreign clients are of Italian descent they ask “Why does every restaurant in Bologna seem to serve the same dishes? And why can’t I find the food that my grandmother used to make?”. I am always touched how those of Italian descent who live abroad – and especially those from Southern Italy – cling emotionally to the tastes and flavours of their grandmothers’ or relatives’ kitchens, associating them with the concept of Italian Cuisine as a whole. I once had a group that was here in Bologna for a week, many of them were of Southern Italian descent and they were craving THEIR nonnas’ food. It seemed that until they were able to identify with their emotional culinary memory, they might even be disappointed with the food. Southern Italian cuisine is considered predominantly ‘Cucina Povera’ or ‘Peasant Cuisine’ and largely based on pulses, vegetables, medleys of tomatoes, bread and hearty extra virgin olive oil.

I asked myself: how could I indulge their emotional culinary memories? The only answer was to take them to a typical trattoria serving Southern Italian food – in this case a ‘Trattoria Lucana’ serving traditional food from Basilicata, the region sandwiched between Puglia, Calabria and Campania, and a magical combination of flavours from all three of those regions. All of a sudden, they were in a minestrone of nostalgia. “Yes, this is what my nonna used to make!”. “Oh, this so reminds me of Easter at my great aunt’s house”. It would seem that finally I had done my job.

The question remained: why are most of the menus the same in Bologna? Or in any other regional town or village for that matter? Because, quite simply, the vast majority of restaurants serve local cuisine. And that’s the point. There is no such thing as Italian food, not in the way you have been brought up to believe. After all, if you go to any Italian restaurant outside of Italy, the cuisine will be a medley of dishes from all over the peninsula.

A Culinary Mosaic of Menus

Before Italy became Italy, it was a mosaic of independent states, kingdoms, duchies, and republics. The idea of a unified Italian nation only came about in the mid-19th century with the Risorgimento (a 19th century movement for Italian unification that aimed to consolidate various Italian states into a single nation, culminating in the establishment of the Kingdom of Italy in 1861), led by figures like Garibaldi, Cavour and Mazzini. Before that, the people of Sicily had more in common with North Africa than with the Venetians, and the Piedmontese palate was shaped more by the French than the Neapolitans.

This fragmentation wasn’t just political, it was also culinary. Each region, shaped by its geography, climate, invaders, trade routes and agriculture, developed its own distinct food culture. The Austrians left behind schnitzel-like dishes, bread dumplings and strudels in Sud Tirol, while Arab influences shaped Sicilian cuisine; think raisins in savoury dishes, couscous in Trapani, and the lavish use of spices, citrus, and almonds. From a geographical perspective, Italy as we know it today, begins in Austria, Switzerland and France and ends in Africa. And the variety of cuisine follows suit.

Enter Pellegrino Artusi

It wasn’t until Pellegrino Artusi, a wealthy fabric merchant from Forlimpopoli (located to the east of Bologna, near the Adriatic coast), decided to collect recipes on his travels from all over the newly unified country, that the idea of a "national" cuisine was even imagined. His 1891 book, La Scienza in Cucina e l'Arte di Mangiar Bene (The Science of Cooking and the Art of Eating Well), was the first truly pan-Italian cookbook.

But even Artusi’s compilation was heavily based on recipes from the central and northern parts of the country. Many southern Italians didn’t see their beloved ingredients such as eggplants, anchovies or hot peppers reflected in it until much later editions, with households from all over Italy contributing their family recipes. Still, his work became a cultural bridge, showing Italians that despite regionalism, there was such a thing as a shared appreciation for good food. However, what Artusi’s vast collection of recipes didn’t represent was the true ‘cucina povera’ or ‘peasant cuisine’ - and it makes sense; because at that time those who were able to share the recipes from their households with him, the bourgeoisie, were the ones who were literate and could actually read and write.

A Regional Identity That Endures

Today, that regional identity is still very much alive. In Emilia Romagna, it’s Tagliatelle al Ragù and Tortellini in Brodo. In Puglia, it’s Orecchiette with broccoli rabe. In Trapani, Sicily it's Cuscus alla Trapanese. In Veneto, it's Risotto, often with seafood or Amarone wine. In Tuscany it’s Ribollita soup. You will only find a Neapolitan pizzeria in Modena if it’s actually run by someone from Naples. And good luck finding Cacio e Pepe in a traditional restaurant in Sicily.

This is both the beauty and the challenge of eating in Italy. It’s not that menus repeat themselves; it’s that they reflect first and foremost geography, terroir and the availability of ingredients as well as necessity. Second, they reflect a centuries-old culinary loyalty to place, to tradition, to local pride. In some towns, changing the ingredients of a traditional recipe might get you chased out of the village square by an army of nonnas.

The Modern Shift

But Italy, like everywhere, is evolving. Young chefs are traveling more. Culinary documentaries and social media are opening up palates. Some are experimenting and daring to venture outside of their strict gastronomic box - playing with fusion, plating traditional dishes with modern twists, even borrowing from their regional neighbors (gasp!).

You’ll now find Spaghetti alla Carbonara reimagined with truffle shavings in Tuscany, or Nduja showing up on pizzas outside of Calabria. Even in Bologna, some truly brave souls are daring to offer dishes with oriental spices such as Turmeric and with the advent of the Tortellino Festival every October in the city centre, with every possible violation of this icon of local cuisine being presented, something that would be have been unthinkable twenty years ago, has shifted.

Still, regional roots remain strong. And that’s the magic.

So, no, there is no single dish that defines “Italian food”, because “Italian food” doesn’t exist as a monolith. It’s a mosaic of micro-cuisines, each proudly distinct and fiercely defended.

And that’s exactly what makes eating in Italy so endlessly fascinating.