In Lucca my pants size shrunk a size without me even trying. In Lucca I ate pizza every day and gelato at least once a day. Sometimes I had chocolate filled pastries for breakfast and during the weekend in Rome I insisted we seek out a bakery to find Cannoli – they’re more of a southern Italian pastry – and ate two for breakfast. I was at a sit down restaurant, sitting outside in the lush weather of Italy when I had my first official true authentic Italian pizza. It was a margherita pizza and it came with an olive in the middle as if to identify itself. In Italy the olives on pizzas are whole with pits and they roll off the slice when you pick it up. There are gelato shops all over Lucca sucking you in. I ate hazelnut milk chocolate all of the time and drank Diet Coke light. When you order water it comes in glass pitchers with or without bubbles. There are sandwich shops with Panini pressed fresh for you. I find myself wishing I remembered terms for words I’ve long since forgotten, but I remember that the hot chocolate was thick like pudding and Limoncello tasted amazing. The tomatoes were the most flavorful I’ve ever had. The bread served before dinner wasn’t as salty as what we have in the United States. We would ask for olive oil and sprinkle it with salt and pepper before dripping chunks of fresh bread in it. I didn’t take so many food photos seven years ago. But I tasted. And I still insist that in Italy I ate the best food I’ve ever eaten.