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| A meat store in northern Italy. |
When I was 16, I moved to Italy, for a year. I lived in a
small town on the island of Sardinia, the outskirts of which were populated by
small, rustic farms and countless sheep. Contrary to what people may think,
Sardinians are not fishermen who subsist on sardines; they are agriculturists
who take tremendous pride in their sheep, lamb, and pork.
I ate a lot of meat that year. The first memorable meal,
eaten in an exhausted state of culture shock and homesickness, was pork
tenderloin braised in milk. I was introduced to Sardinian porcheddu, whole
piglet roasted over a fire, with crispy skin and melting layers of fat. We ate
breaded beef or veal cutlets frequently for lunch after school. Pasta was
topped with stewed meat sauces or fresh ham, cream, and sheep’s cheese. Dinner
parties always started with plates of cured meats, like prosciutto and
bresaola. It was delicious. I also gained 30 pounds.
Read Katherine Martinko’s story on Treehugger - “New mayor of Turin, Italy, wants her city to go vegetarian.”

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