Legacy is built. It lasts.
Not always in the exact form it was originally designed a thousand years ago, but its remnants tell stories. They teach us lessons.
One of the most compelling writings on Venice I encountered is from John Ruskin, the English polymath—writer, lecturer, art historian, critic, draughtsman, and philanthropist of the Victorian era.
In The Stones of Venice, Vol. 1, he wrote:
“Since the first dominion of men was asserted over the ocean, three thrones, of mark beyond others, have been set upon its sands: the thrones of Tyre, Venice, and England. Of the first of these great powers only the memory remains; of the second, the ruin; the third, which inherits their greatness, if it forget their example, may be led through prouder eminence to less pitied destruction.”
Only a stone may remain to tell of a past empire, but its stories endure, passed from one generation to the next.
In the end, it is legacy that we value most.
Some legacies take the form of grand architecture and public spaces. Some persist through art.
And some—perhaps the most intimate of all—are carried through food.
A Taste of Italy
In every Italian city we visited, food was nothing short of extraordinary.
The perfect al dente bite of spaghetti. The variety of pasta shapes, each with a purpose. The sauces, crafted with precision. The lightness of pizza, unlike anything I had tasted elsewhere.
Every meal radiated the joy and pride of its creators.
Take Venice, a city renowned for its seafood. One dish, in particular, captured our attention: squid ink pasta.
A squid ink pasta (often referred to as pasta al nero di seppia in Italian) is a traditional seafood dish, particularly popular in coastal regions of Italy and Spain. It is characterized by its jet-black color, which comes from the ink of squid or cuttlefish, and its rich, briny, umami flavor.
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Every restaurant seemed to have it on the menu, yet no two tasted the same. Some highlighted the pure umami of the ink, bringing out its deep richness. Others toned down its bitterness, balancing it with a silky, oil-based sauce for a smoother experience. Each interpretation was unique.
Even with a single dish, the variety was astonishing.
From morning till night, we ate Italian food—yet rather than tiring of it, we only wanted more.
The Puzzle of Culinary Excellence
This left me with a lingering question.
Anthony Bourdain, the celebrated chef and storyteller who traversed the globe in search of great food, once placed Tokyo at the pinnacle of the culinary world.
He recalled asking hundreds of top chefs:
“If you could live in only one city for the rest of your life, where would it be?”
Without hesitation, they all answered: Tokyo.
Bourdain himself visited Tokyo many times but admitted he had only scratched the surface of its food culture.
I’ve carried that thought with me ever since.
Tokyo is home to exquisite Japanese cuisine, of course. But beyond that, it offers world-class European, Chinese, South American, and Mediterranean fare—all executed at the highest level.
Mari Yamazaki, the renowned manga artist and writer who lived in Italy, once wrote about diplomats who asked her what they should eat upon arriving in Tokyo.
Her answer? Tomato pasta.
A seemingly ordinary dish in Italy, yet one that, in the hands of Tokyo’s chefs, transforms into something extraordinary.
For those with refined palates, even the simplest dish can become a revelation.
Tokyo, the most Michelin-starred city in the world, sets a gold standard for culinary excellence.
And yet, my time in Italy altered my perspective.
For days, we ate nothing but Italian food. And yet, we only craved more.
That, I realized, is the power of Italian cuisine. It doesn’t just satisfy; it seduces. It lingers in the mind long after the meal is over.
A Legacy Not of Stone, But of Flavor
Ruskin saw Venetian architecture as a time capsule—a way to understand the rise and fall of civilizations.
He lamented that later Renaissance buildings, with their obsession with symmetry and perfection, lost the raw energy and human touch of the earlier Gothic style.
I wonder if the same could be said about food.
Mass production and globalization have given us access to every cuisine, yet true culinary legacy isn’t just about availability—it’s about preservation, tradition, and personal craftsmanship.
Some legacies are built in stone.
Others live on in flavors.
Italy’s legacy?
It is one you can taste.
