By Daren Anderson
I’ve always been fascinated by transportation infrastructure and knowing where things come from, particularly food. The American supermarket is a modern marvel, featuring every imaginable food available all year long. I am amazed at how there can be strawberries and blueberries or fresh lettuce and cherry tomatoes in the middle of the winter. How does a fresh artichoke get to the vegetable section of your grocery store in January? If you look at the label or the price tag sticker, you will see that our food comes from all over the world.
Shopping here in Italy I have continued to nurture my interest in where food comes from. But it has been quite a different experience, at least so far. Nearly everything we buy in the large, modern grocery store in our town is grown or produced in Italy. Nearly all the fish are caught by Italian fisherman in Mediterranean waters. All the fruit and vegetables, with few exceptions, come from Italy. Of course bananas still come from Central and South America, and coffee comes from Asia, African, or South America. But most of the meat and produce that we buy comes from Italy.
And not just Italy, but from a specific region of Italy, often proudly displayed on the package or tag. In fact, some foods have a specific designation, D.O.P., which stands for Denominazione d’Origine Protetta (Protected Designation of Origin), certifying that the product and its ingredients came from a specifically designated region with specific quality standards. Common D.O.P. products include cured meats like Prosciutto di Parma, a wide range of cheeses, Balsamic vinegar, San Marzano tomatoes, and even some arborio rice varietals.
Tracking the source of origin of food in an Italian grocery store is a veritable lesson in Italian geography. Anyone who has watched Stanley Tucci’s “Searching for Italy” series will be well-familiar with the importance of local food traditions and how local climate and soil conditions contribute to the taste and quality of a food product. Grape varietals grown in the area around Modena turn sour much too quickly to support wine making, hence Balsamic vinegar became a signature product from this region in the 1600’s. Volcanic soil on the slopes of Vesuvius produces the perfect flavor and texture for tomatoes used to make sauce (San Marzano). The combination of history, geography, and culture creates a geography lesson that you can literally taste.
The other thing that I’ve enjoyed in Italy is the countryside. We’ve now traveled through about 2/3 of Italy, from Milan in the north to Calabria in the south. One of the most striking things that we’ve noted is the heavy predominance of farming and agriculture in nearly every region we’ve seen. There are some areas with huge farms and fields that stretch to the horizon. But there are also small farms and plots, even right here in our neighborhood. Whether these smaller plots grow produce that ends up in our local market or grocery store I don’t know, but their presence here and across the country contributes to the beauty of the landscape. It also keeps food interesting and varied and avoids some of the uniformity that characterizes American grocery stores. I am sure that products could be sourced from other places and bring cheaper prices and perhaps more steady supply.
I know that the European Union maintains trade policies, agricultural subsidies, and geographic protections that help support farmers and food producers, and that Italy has been a strong advocate for preserving those traditions. And I am certain that this contributes somewhat to higher prices. But that higher price is paying for many things that society values, such as preservation of tradition and culture, freshness, local variety, jobs in agriculture, and regional pride, to name just a few.
I am no expert in farm policy or EU tariffs, but I will say that shopping in Italy is interesting and fun, and the food is in fact fresher, as people often state. This is one stereotype about Italy that has proven to be true.
The contrast between food and manufactured products has been particularly striking. In food, local production, regional identity, and protected designations seem to produce tangible benefits in freshness and quality. In other categories, however, my observations have been more mixed. Before arriving, I associated ‘Made in Italy’ with high-end fashion, sports cars, pottery, and other luxury items. I assumed it was almost synonymous with craftsmanship and quality. Yet many of the everyday consumer products we encounter, from household goods to inexpensive clothing and miscellaneous items sold in markets, are no better, and sometimes worse, than what we would find in the United States.
I don’t know whether this reflects protectionist policies, different consumer preferences, lower purchasing power, or simply the fact that every country produces both exceptional products and mediocre ones. But it has been a useful reminder that a national label is not a guarantee of quality.
After only three months in Italy, I am far from an expert on agricultural policy, trade, or manufacturing. But living here has made me think differently about the relationship between price, quality, and value. In America, we often assume that lower prices are always better. Living in Italy has reminded me that there are other things worth preserving: local agriculture, regional traditions, distinctive foods, beautiful landscapes, and jobs that keep small communities alive.
None of those things are free. They show up in prices, regulations, and consumer choices. Whether the trade-offs are worthwhile is a question reasonable people can debate. But the true value of a product extends beyond the number on the price tag. The cheapest option often carries costs that are simply paid somewhere else, by someone else, or at some later time.
