While traveling recently, I wandered into a store that sells almost exclusively all things Italian. From homemade pasta to gelato to wine to incredible cheeses, it’s a little bit of Italy without the hefty plane ticket.
I have always thought of this particular place as a purveyor of the makings of a feast, but have never extended that impression to the kind of feast made from garden goods. But on this particular visit, I found myself face to face with a giant display of Italian herb and vegetable seeds.
I should note that, while seeds remain a bargain compared to the cost of actual produce at the store/co-op/market, these were not the world’s cheapest seeds. But I found myself unable to resist the musical seed names: basilico a foglie di lattuga sounds so much more romantic than lettuce-leaf basil. Rucola coltivata? Way better than arugula. Basilico violetto aromatico sounds like a character in an opera. And bis di lattughe da taglio? Sounds like I couldn’t just make salad out of it…I could date it, too.
Really, what does it matter that I can’t understand any of the growing instructions, either? It’s not like that has correlated, for me, into anything resembling growing success.
And at least I can guess what “Di facile coltivazione anche su balconi e terrazzi”means. It means, “Your handsome Italian gardener will plant this for you while you sit on your balcony or terrace and sip a glass of Montepulciano. It will be easy.”