Longing and Belonging
Every Journey Begins Near to You
About 20 years ago I had an irrepressible longing to move to Italy. I looked online at Tuscan farmhouses for sale, read books by American expats living in Italy and delved into the requirements for getting Italian citizenship. The food, the culture, the history, art, design—it all appealed to me. I dreamt of living the life of Frances Mayes in Under the Tuscan Sun (the book, not the movie). I imagined days spent exploring hill towns, going on truffle hunts with neighbors, and evenings spent walking to a nearby trattoria where everyone knew my name. Despite decades of living in and loving Santa Barbara, I felt like something was missing in my life here.
But it turns out that it wasn’t missing at all. Just as Glinda the Good Witch told Dorothy, I had the power all along to click my heels and realize that I was right where I belonged. However, this occurred to me gradually and not in one magical moment. Sometimes, I’d catch myself at the farmers market thinking about how lucky I was to be able to fill my basket with such amazing produce. I found myself at dinner parties with my neighbors, and I realized that community I imagined finding in Italy was here, right next door. One night, I attended a farm dinner cooked by Laurence Hauben at Fairview Gardens; another time, I attended a cooking class held by Pascale Beale in a Montecito adobe. Something was telling me that there were kindred spirits here at home, and the food here was getting an awful lot better.
Perhaps the definitive experience happened not long after I started Edible Santa Barbara. We were on a photo shoot with Noey Turk at The Garden of….. After we got all the photos we needed, we were invited to stay for lunch. As we sat down to eat a meal with the people who lived and worked on the farm, made with vegetables harvested mere minutes before, I realized that I was exactly where I had always wanted to be. I was breaking bread with people who valued food as much as I did. From that point on, I started noticing more of those moments. And thankfully, there were many.
Instead of hill towns, I explored Ballard Canyon, Cuyama and the Guadalupe Dunes. I bought chanterelles from the farmers market, and I went to dinners at long tables loaded with exquisite food and wine set in vineyards at sunset. “What grows together goes together” became my mantra. But it wasn’t the activities that were the most fulfilling; it was the people I met and connected with who brought everything full circle.
Don’t get me wrong: I still love Italy and always have plans to go there for a vacation. But the dreams I once had about living in Italy are being fulfilled here. I have turned longing into belonging.
Lately, I’ve been reading poetry, and it’s inspired me to look through some poems that I have written over the years. I found this one and realized that gathering around the table and belonging to that moment with our friends and loved ones is the secret to a happy life.
Food on the Table
Color-soaked ceramic plates, olive oil and bread
the table dappled in shadows and sunlight
tinted green glasses to the brim with red.
We linger the talk
the still life salad
bread on the board
our hands on the table
our voices around
a table laden
a tableau of lives.