We mediterraneans tend to be lazy, gadfly, (some say) not that committed to rules, but we can’t hold from being warm and generous. We all have been snot-nosed children, our mothers a kind of sacred molochs and the indisputable queens at mastering pans, pots and food. Religion keeps having a say in our habits and way of being. The act of breaking bread is what we mean for hosting others (please read “Our daily bread” by Predrag Matvejevic).
We mediterraneans spend a massive part of our lives talking about food. A bizantine dance that develops and fails on an extremely fragile balance. Rule number one is: the grandma recipe is sacred, then the family rituals compensate other inner fights (“Who’s grandma???”… to begin with…). As far as land will keep being that generous, it’s hard to imagine our way of being will change that much (in the good and the bad, of course…).
Pictures by myself, Riccardo Rama de Tisi