Cavolo

My childhood memories take me back to Borgofranco during the war, when — at the age of 15 - my friends and I were constantly hungry. I would often create improvised afternoon teas at around five o’clock. We used to pass a field of cabbages on our way home from school and when they were ready for eating, we ‘allowed ourselves’ to take one from the fields. Each of us brought the other ingredients from home, like olive oil, salt, pepper, vinegar, bread and a big bowl. With a large knife and a chopping board, we were making a cabbage salad out in the open countryside. The white and crunchy internal leaves were very thinly sliced then placed in the bowl and seasoned with the rest of the ingredients. Sometimes a little garlic was crushed and marinated in vinegar before being added. Sitting around the bowl, we then proceeded to eat this intermediary meal that would carry us through to dinner. A mad but wonderfully innocent time.