What I didn’t realize until I moved to Bra, is that for my entire life, I have lived on the water. I grew up in Connecticut, on a sailboat in the Long Island Sound, and spent summers in Michigan on a lake that appears to be ocean. When I moved to San Diego, I rolled out of bed and onto Mission Beach, until I landed myself on the island of Manhattan, where I resided until about five months ago. Upon arriving in Piemonte, the land of meat, cheese, and wines that are served best with carne cruda and pasta, I quickly realized that fish was not going to be on the menu. For this reason, last weekend in Vernazza, one of the five charming villages of Cinque Terre, was an absolute seafood extravaganza. From mussels stuffed shut with cheese and breadcrumbs, to an anaphora filled with an entire lobster and more clams and shrimp than I could count, we enjoyed the gifts of the sea from Monterosso all the way to Riomaggiore. Somehow each of these delicacies made me feel at home, evoking food memories like that of Ego in Ratatoulle. The dish that affected me most was the simplest of our fare at Tratorria da Sandro in Vernazza. A beautiful swordfish filet, perfectly grilled and served with only lemon was just the way my dad made it growing up. As it melted on my tongue, my mind flashed to Pagano’s, the local fish market to which I would trek with my mom every week growing up. I remembered the strange smells and the wet floor and grabbing a lemon from the callused hands of the fisherman working there. I would beg mom for shrimp or crab cakes or something else familiar in the vast case and then we would head home to grill and eat on the patio in the sticky heat of summer. A bit different from our first night in Vernazza, but somehow I felt very much at home in the cave-like venue of Trattoria da Sandro. Isn’t it funny how food can do that to you?
