Yesterday I listened to an NPR report about the state of the family meal in America.
This was the scene of one family that was interviewed. At 6:02 p.m., three children sat down to supper. The mother and father did not eat with the children (they planned to eat later). The father wasn’t at the table. He was checking his phone. Grandpa was nearby looking at his iPad. The TV was blaring in the background. The meal lasted for eight minutes.
In Florence, as everywhere in Italy, dining is a celebration of life.
A few years ago on a research trip to Rome, I connected with Giuliana, the former neighbor of an American friend who had lived in Rome for a while. We agreed to meet one spring evening at the Spanish Steps.