A few months ago, if you had asked me to name the best food in the world, I would have said Brazil and Spain without thinking. I was raised Brazilian on Spanish soil, so my palate grew up between the two. Brazil has flavor and comfort; Spain is all about the ingredient, from tapas in Madrid to seafood in Galicia. I thought I had already eaten the best.
Then I moved to Italy, specifically to Genoa, between the Ligurian Sea and the mountains, where the smell of basil and focaccia from the oven seems to fill the city. The question everyone asks: is Italian gastronomy really everything people say?
No. It is more.
Before I talk about my new home, I should give my roots their due. Brazilian food is creative and comforting. It mixes influences in a way I have not seen anywhere else. Spain cooks with love and passion, and the product always comes first. I still put both countries at the top.
The Italian revelation
Italy added something I had not expected. Here, eating well is not a special occasion. It is simply part of the culture.
Food holds Italian society together. It is not just about eating something good; it is about respect for the ingredient and for local tradition. In Genoa, I learned that pesto is part of the city’s identity and that focaccia is a ritual that runs through the day.
The consistency impresses me most. In many countries, there is a wide gap between a fancy restaurant and a small neighborhood place. In Italy, that gap is smaller.
Whether you eat in a one-star trattoria, at a family counter hidden in a Genovese caruggio, or in a modern restaurant with a top rating, the quality is high. There is a minimum standard on the plate that many famous international kitchens do not reach. The simple dishes here are executed with a mastery that surprises me.
The difference between popular and refined cooking in Italy is not the quality of what you eat but the complexity of the preparation. The flavor, freshness, and pleasure of handmade pasta in a modest place can match the most exclusive experience.
A cultural question
Living here has taught me that Italians do not go out to dinner only because they are hungry. They go out to celebrate being alive through flavor. It is a national obsession, and it produces one of the highest densities of good food I have ever seen.
Italian gastronomy is “all that.” It does not erase what I loved in Brazil or Spain, but it raises the act of sitting at the table to something essential.
If you get the chance, skip the famous restaurant. Walk through the little wooden door, order the dish of the day, and let the Italian standard change what you think it means to eat well.