I’m just home from the Trentino region in Italy having spent two delicious weeks rock climbing, eating and relaxing in the midst of the craggy limestone towers of the Dolomites. As you can imagine culture shock is hitting me pretty hard. The home of the Slow Food Movement, Italy was everything I dreamed of and more. The scenery, the people, the food, and the culture- everything contributed to an overall feeling that every day was a celebration of life. If the old adage is true that you are what you eat, the Italians have it figured out.

I find myself daydreaming about the seafood market in Venice where vendors have traded fresh vegetables and piles of prawns with big eyeballs, buckets of live snails and crabs still snapping for over 1000 years. My mouth waters thinking of a stuffed gnocci in porcini sauce, thick, crusty, chewy bread filled with whole green and black olives, and the plates of spices decorating the spice shops. While these things were special and unique, it’s really the everyday things I miss, like the grocery stores I’m lusting for.

Imagine if you can going into any old grocery store and feeling like you could buy anything and would not be compromising your health, the environment, or the grower’s integrity. There were no isles I had to force myself to avoid, no moments frozen in front of the meat counter ruining my appetite imagining what affect a beautiful piece of steak might have on my 4-year old daughter’s breast development. The bottled spaghetti sauces are packed with large chunks of olives and peppers and had no MSG. The packaged cookies contained no hydrogenated oils (except the ones imported from the US or the UK). The furthest away the chocolate has to travel is from Switzerland.

The fancy stuff- Prosciutto Parma- cost $12 a kilo ($6 a lb). At least ten of the twenty cheeses in the deli case were produced in Trentino, the rest in other parts of Italy (which is the size of Arizona). There was no choice to buy anything but milk, butter and yogurt produced in the Trentino. The only consideration the veggies needed was what would go with a fresh chicken breast- not how far they had come or what the grower had to do to ensure they made it this far. If they weren’t in season they wouldn’t be here. And the wine…I’d never seen any of them before so I resorted to blindly grabbing anything with the Trentino label wondering only should I spend $3 or splurge and spend $6?

When we first arrived, my Italian friend Rolo who knew I was into “organic” food was eager to point out some packages labeled “bio” which indicated the food was organic. “Who cares?” was the first thought that entered my mind.

The most inspiring site we saw was the rest stops along the Autobahn. You would enter the giant gas stations and were greeted by kiosks full of fresh fruits, healthy drinks and people hanging out at the espresso bar (NO “to go” cups are available). There was always an extensive cafeteria with a salad bar packed with things like olive tampanade and fresh mozzarella, a pasta bar, fresh pizza, and homemade desserts. On your way in you grabbed fresh baked rolls, on your way out you picked up a bottle of local olive oil, balsamic vinegar and sea salt to take to your table. Sparkling water, small bottles of wine and beer, and fresh juices were available. Of course there were sodas and snacks were but they were basically off in the back of the store- the products in the limelight were the wine, beer, salami, cheese, and olive oil. When I go on a road trip in the States I pack the Tums and brace myself. The Italians, on the other hand, find absolutely no excuses to ever eat bad food.

Compare this experience if you will with my first stop in a grocery store in the US in Pinedale, Wyoming. Driving home to Idaho after flying into Denver I let my husband and anxious kid out of the car at the park and thought I’d cleverly use the time to get some staples. We took a vote and tacos were the dinner of choice. A nightmare ensued.

As I entered the giant grocery store that serves ranchers in within a 60 mile radius and thousands of tourists on their way to Yellowstone, I was greeted by hunting supplies and ammunition next to a small deli case with prepackaged potato salad and “gourmet” cheeses like wax packed Edam and some commercial baby Swiss. Processed meats were prepackaged and rainbows were starting to glow on their shinny flesh.

Our cupboards at home were completely empty so I perused the isles. After the first four isles I found nothing edible so proceeded to the small fresh fruit and veggie section (less than 2% of the store). I passed up packaged lettuces and settled on some fresh looking sprouts, nice tomatoes pricy avocados and four rock-hard peaches. No fresh salsa was available (even though there is a huge Hispanic population here) so I got a can of tomatillo salsa and the only tortilla shells not made by Taco Bell. I grabbed the last ½ gallon of organic milk on the shelf and bolted. The baggage checker looked at me with complete incomprehension when I asked her to please fill up the plastic bags as much as possible. Beer had to be bought around the corner at the back of the “mall” at a hidden liquor store.

You have probably heard of Michael Pollan’s bestselling book The Omnivore’s Dilemma. The success of this book and the number of people reading it provides as much hope as the fact that George Bush’s ratings have finally dropped. Pollan, a brilliant progressive professor of Journalism from Berkeley, follows different meals- one fast food, one organic, one small-scale local agriculture, and one he hunts and gathers himself- through the food chain. By analyzing how food is grown, packaged, shipped and produced he covers the gamut of social, cultural, environmental and physical health issues related to how food is produced and consumed.

The “omnivore’s dilemma” is what the hell we are supposed to eat in this country. Both depressing and inspiring, this educational book covers so many ethical issues about big business, the government, large-scale argriculture, obesity, malnutrition and various other health problems. Nothing escapes Pollan’s scrutiny and no matter how you eat (unless you are living off the grid and are totally self sufficient) you will find something troubling about what and how you are eating today.

The good news is that things are changing and the most positive idea I took from the book is that we don’t all have to eat the same way, but we have a constitutional right to eat anything we want. If you want to eat unpasturized milk you should be able to. You should be able to buy meat from directly from your neighbor. In rural Idaho I should be able to buy something besides potatoes from the thousands of acres of fertile farm land that surround me. Organic standards should not be compromised for the benefit of big business. The cost of food should reflect the true cost so that good food becomes cheaper and unhealthy food is not subsidized.

Yvonne Chouinard, owner of Patagonia Clothing, speaks of the threats to the environment and our civilization in his book Let My People Go Surfing. “Despite near-universal consensus among scientists that we are on the brink of an environmental collapse, our society lacks the will to take action. We are collectively paralyzed by apathy, inertia and lack of imagination,” he says. Commercialization and homogenization of our food supply is also leading us toward a collapse of our physical and mental health and a loss of cultural traditions. The Italians love food enough they never got themselves in the mess we have. But surely we are creative enough to get ourselves out of it?

I found the Italians ridiculously kind, generous and easy going. My husband and I tried to count how many rude people or rough encounters we had and came up with two in two weeks- some snobby salespeople in a climbing store in Cortina (the “Aspen” of the Dolomites) and, well, we couldn’t actually name anyone else but figured there had to be another. The Italians, at least in the mountains, are surrounded by beauty. Not only is the scenery outstanding, but the architecture, the gardens, the fields, the fuel-efficient cars, the shops, everything is diverse and well cared for. Other than one Burger King on the busiest street in Venice, I never laid eyes on a strip mall, a chain store, a coca-cola billboard, or a housing development where the homes all looked the same.

Everything is still closed on Sundays, as well as at least three hours in the middle of the day ensuring a good meal and time to relax is had by all. As far as I could tell the only thing Italians do fast was drive, talk, and bake a pizza. Could it really be true that caring for your land, celebrating diversity, spending time talking with other people and eating high quality food, coffee and wine could actually make you happier? Is it possible? So what’s the dilemma?