Why are we here?

About food, love and sharing

Depending on the context, this can be a loaded question. If we make it about meaning and purpose — “Why are we here and what’s the meaning of life?” — it can very quickly send us down an existential rabbit hole that could enlighten you, confuse you, excite you, or depress you, depending on the day and who you are talking to.

But right here, right now, the answer is simple: FOOD.

Food

We’re here because of food.

Because we like it. We enjoy it. We make it, buy it, eat it, share it, talk about it. We’re curious about it. We’re hungry (at least I am… always).

But above all, because we love it. I love it, and I want to share that love with others.

For me, food has always been there, woven into my daily life. I always cared for it and enjoyed it, and for a long time, I didn't even realise it. Because when you grow up with something so present, you think it’s just how things are.

I grew up in a family in which cooking is something we all do. It is the main way we feed ourselves. Yes, we will go out to restaurants, but the best food has always been the one we make at home; cooking is not a chore, there’s no dwelling. It has been this way since I can remember, it continues to be true now in my own home, and I’m pretty sure it will continue to be this way until our last day – and hopefully long after.

This place is born out of all these realisations.

Da Mangiare is a place where I share this love in the form of family recipes, memories, reflections and thoughts, a snapshot into my life through food. It’s not about perfect plating or professional cooking. It’s about real food in whatever form it comes, real life, and the joy of sharing both.

Love

When I think about food, I think about my family first and foremost, above anything else and by long shot, but also think about friends, and togetherness.

Time together in the kitchen, prepping, peeling, chatting and cooking. 

Time together at the home table, sometimes sitting for hours, eating, tasting, sharing, laughing, enjoying. Making noises of gusto, pleasure and joy. From time to time, there was also disappointment that followed sentences such as “it didn’t come out that well this time” or "we left it in for too long".

Hours at the table, celebrating, commemorating. From Christmas to Easter, and everything in between; birthdays, visitors, friends, family; many of these filled by the inevitable unfastening of belts, unbuttoning of trousers and the need to lie down after the end of that big meal.

Hours at the table on a Sunday. Just because that’s what we do, no questions asked, no justifications needed or demanded.

Hours at the table just being a family.

We didn’t need a reason. Like everyone else, we had to eat, we just made the most of it.

Food is not just the dishes we make. It’s the table. The everyday ritual. The family anchor. It's a tradition that happens without us even thinking about it as such.

And above anything else, it's the time spent together.

Sharing

What I’ve realised over time is that cooking — especially for others — is one of the ways I show love. Maybe the main way.

There’s something in the act of making food for someone else that feels deeply personal. It’s care. Its intention. It's giving.

Years ago I watched the Sean Penn's movie "Into the wild", there, the main character reaches a major realisation that followed a line that have stayed with me since, and when it comes to food, it couldn’t be more true for me:

“Happiness is only real when shared.”

When you cook for someone, you’re giving them more than a plate of mixed ingredients and calories. You’re offering care, meaning, attention, and even memories, something that (even if they don’t know it or you don't know it) carries a piece of you. A piece of your personal history. At least that's how I feel about it.

Even when I cook just for myself — and I love doing that — it’s not the same as sharing it. That feeling multiplies when it’s passed across the table.
Cooking for others is a kind of communion. A way to connect without words.

This is why I’m here

I started Da Mangiare to share this love for food, for family, and for the simple moments that happen around the table. To celebrate the joy and the beauty of eating well, the warmth of feeding others.

I’m not a chef. I’m not pretending to be one, I’m not aspiring to be one.

I’m just someone who loves to cook, to eat, and to share honest, delicious food.

Someone who loves spending time with others.

Someone who loves discovering new flavours and exploring people, cultures, and stories through eating.

I hope that's why you are here too.

I hope that this becomes a place where you can see yourself, in the stories, the recipes, the moments at the table, or at least feel like you are invited to mine.

Thanks for being here.

Let’s eat.