Fish

I have been a wandering cook. I have stood over stoves in Cesenatico, my native town in Romagna, in Florence, in Milan, in Bologna, in Rome, in Palermo, in Venice, in Sori, a village on the Riviera coast. I have cooked in New York and in more cities and towns throughout America than I could now enumerate. I have cooked in Canada, in Mexico, in St. Barts, in Ireland, England, South Africa, Hong Kong, Australia. Surprises of every kind came with every change of scenery, some welcome, some less so. Among the most welcome ones were those of a culinary kind, as I discovered that even the humblest ingredient—a radish, a tomato, an onion—can have a distinct territorial identity of its own. No other category of ingredients, however, displays even remotely the wide variety of flavors and texture that exists among fish.