Their names echo through time: Leonardo, Michelangelo, Montessori, Dante, Vivaldi, St. Francis, and Brunelleschi. Gods and Goddesses. There have been a share of douchebags from Italy *cough Cesare Borgia cough*, but they can’t overshadow its perennial flowering.

“People are very passionate in Italy. If you like something, you like something. If you hate something, you hate something. When you hate something, you are screaming.” - Monica Bellucci

If I never went to Italy as a child and consistently throughout each stage of my life who knows what kind of ungodly ice cream or gelato I’d be making today. I’m very lucky…no, blessed. I see a lot of gelato and ice cream today where there’s pretzels hanging off the sides or some other Kardashian idea. I immediately make the sign of the cross to the Beloved Virgin Mary to forgive such sins of class and taste.

All jokes aside, THANK THE HEAVENS for Italy. It is where both haute cuisine and cucina povera exist at the same level whether it’s some orgasmic oxtail risotto or simple ravioli. The only other place I know of like this is China. Standards are so high across the board. But aside from just merely food, Italy has given us countless gods and goddesses in art, religion, science, philosophy, poetry, and even cars. What I’ve especially taken from reading translations of Italian writers, hanging around in a piazza, or just chit chatting with a random old lady while helping her setup a table is that Autonomy is life. Far away in Roma or wherever there’s always some assholes running their mouths making excuses and stealing from the land. But a strong sense of autonomy has allowed Italy to thrive in spite of them for centuries and discern what is best for themselves. It’s not just an individual autonomy, although that is strong, but one connection to the immediate area and people. Where you take a good look around to your towns, rivers, parks, flowers, orchards, air, and the people, and think about where we are right now and about being something unique for themselves. Even if it means you are filled with dread.

And in light of today that’s even more important because otherwise life is just algorithms and machines. It’s becoming to the point where the machines are turning us into accessories as opposed to being the other way around. Even being filthy rich can’t save you. When was the last time you thought about your autonomy, the area around, and how you have enforced you and your loved ones’ dreams upon it? Let that sink in for a second and think if those dreams are even your own or another trend. We have automation instead of autonomy. Many act like high technology has empowered them. Surely it has helped logistical capabilities, but on a human level, has it? I think it has made us weaker, less interesting, confused, and numb. How can you feel the vigor of creation when the canvas in front of you is leased and regulated. Leonardo and Michelangelo didn’t live in fantastic times, but they cut through time like a samurai through an enemy’s head. They commanded their visions in spite of all the control. They and many others throughout history lived with a sensual zest for life.

Sensuality is the other treasure of Italy. Almost every moment in my life is guided by the senses. I walk out the door and breath in the warm summer air, touch the tomato leaves, talk to the rabbits, and listen to every batch being made. With these fucking masks, I watch every persons’ eyes as they speak, and listen to the volume of every syllable. There’s also being close enough to someone to breath in their unique smell, and to touch their soft skin. I even listen to my car starting up and breath in that first bit of exhaust. (I’m a Jersey kid; I grew up on the smell of gasoline and the feeling of the gas pedal.) In terms of food I love the smell of onions and garlic. The sound of onions sautéing is a drug. But sensuality is rapidly disappearing not only because of coronavirus, but because we live in our machines. I’m living through it right now. I wish I could be chatting away with you on the street or at a cafe. I yearn for the days when I used to sit with my friend Etienne at Washington Square Park and we’d talk for half a day. I miss the intoxicating laugh of some people.

In the long run sensuality must return, and it has to be made a mission no matter what. It is what makes us human, not those tools and machines. Humans feel the terror of life and make it beautiful, and it is sensuality that gives that gift to us. Today is chaos. It is being ravaged by disease, corruption, impotence, hate, and algorithms. But it is also the time to remember the feeling of being human. And Italy is one of the best countries, cultures, and regions that manages to keep that autonomy and zest for a sensual life alive. Even right now as it is being ravaged.

Our blog always ends up being some type of lamenting alongside optimism. I wish that weren’t the case and that I could just rant about how awesome everything is. I mean, I just make fucking gelato…who the fuck am I? But today pretty much sucks. I spend a lot of time listening and thinking about today and paths out of the malaise (with a minor in Political Theory, it’s second nature). But the Buddhist in me says to focus on my time now making gelato and the flowers will bloom in their own time and the whole field will be filled. I just hope they bloom the Italian way.

So this is where I break and become more business guy Alex. This weekend we will be doing a classic Italian gelato menu. I had thought of some new stuff, but I’d rather keep it classic like Monica Bellucci in a LBD (little black dress). Expect Fior Di Latte, Ricotta, Gianduia, Pistacchio, Olio d’Oliva, Gorgonzola, Arancia Rossa, Limone, and whatever else. We just want to celebrate the classical Italian way. I wish there were no coronavirus and we’d do this whole weekend at some park where it is a giant party and everyone’s eating gelato up to their eyeballs. Some scene where everyone’s having fun and no one gives a fuck. Maybe next summer. For now stop by, wear a god damn mask, and enjoy yourself 2020 style.

The importance of Italy