Europe has spoiled my taste buds.
We went to England and Scotland, and Mr. Husband got a taste of single malt and has stayed loyal to Scotland to this day.
A taste of real German beer made me give up Budweiser forever.
Our Switzerland trip made me realize that cheese and croissants are truly food for the soul.
And if that was not enough, Italy ruined so many things for us—in the best way.
I ate nonstop, drank beautiful wine every day, had pastries for breakfast and dessert, pasta became my best buddy, and tiramisu… well, that is the language of love.
Since we came back, we had been thinking about finding a good Italian grocery store. The North End was not quite attractive enough anymore.
Mr. Husband found a shop in the Hyde Park area of Boston. On a beautiful sunny afternoon, we decided to drive in search of the best pasta, cured meats, bread, olive oil, and cheese.
I went there for groceries, but at Tutto Italiano, I found history, stories, and love.
The 80-year-old owner—a charming, handsome gentleman, still so good-looking at his age—has a quiet warmth about him.
I heard so many stories of his arrival from Italy in 1968—his first job, meeting his wife, and his deep love for cooking.
His daughter shared a story that stayed with me. When he first met her mother and was interested in her, he wrote down his strengths and weaknesses on a paper napkin and said, “If you can deal with this, then let’s meet again.”
He worked with a shoe company and eventually started his own food business.
I got to taste his Easter pies, fresh mozzarella made by his daughter, olive oil from his farms in Italy, and beautifully curated meats.
We ended up buying a lot more than I had planned.
I will go back—not only for the groceries, but for more stories, more smiles, and that feeling of home.
