Back in the 1980s, I had the great privilege of studying at the University of Lancaster, in the English northwest, and there are many wonderful things that I remember about my years there. In particular, I enjoyed discovering how different this new culture (new to me, anyway) was from the one in which I had grown up, in Philadelphia, from the mid-1960s to the early ’80s. And one difference especially stands out in my memory. It is something that I found inexplicably delightful. Don’t laugh: it was that the standard paper size, A4, is a little taller and a little narrower than the 8½ x 11 inch paper that is standard in the United States.
I didn’t think that A4 was better than the paper size that I was used to, and I don’t really know why the slightly foreign dimensions of my new notebooks delighted me so much, but they did. More enduring than my delight in A4 paper was the lesson that it taught me. It taught me that what we are used to—what we take to be the best and natural order of things—is often somewhat random and could just as easily have been otherwise.

I found myself thinking about this one evening a few weeks ago, at the end of June, as I enjoyed a typically relaxed Tuscan dinner with a local friend. Rocco and I were on the broad terrace of a small restaurant in the medieval village of Barberino, overlooking the green Elsa Valley just a short drive from Villa Ardore.

For much of the previous two weeks, Europe had been under a heat dome that resulted in higher than usual temperatures—especially in France, where temperatures rose to over one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. While a bit cooler in Tuscany, it was nonetheless quite hot out in the sun at the height of the afternoon even here. But as Rocco and I enjoyed our appetizer of stuffed zucchini flowers paired with a chilled but not too cold vermentino, and as the sun lowering toward the horizon caused each hill to cast its own long shadow, there was almost the hint of a chill in the air. Still, Rocco and I, the sommelier, our waiter, and people at nearby tables couldn’t help talking about the just-finished heatwave.

At some point, the conversation turned toward what people in other places, especially on social media in the U.S., were saying about it. Social media being what it is, it is perhaps inevitable that much of the commentary was in the form of memes. These suggested that Europeans had brought their suffering on themselves — that they lacked the foresight, and were too wedded to old ways, to install air conditioning.

It’s easy to understand why those who have long enjoyed air conditioning, and who have taken it to be an obvious necessity of modern life, would be surprised that it is not thought of in the same way elsewhere. It’s no different than my assumption, which I was unaware of even having made, that standard notebook and printer paper was the same size everywhere. But there was more than surprise in the memes that I saw. There was judgment. A sort of smugness. There was a suggestion that there is a flaw in European culture, something wrong with how Europeans think and live.

Perhaps nowhere is air conditioning more commonly used than in the United States. But that is a somewhat recent phenomenon. The prevalence of in-home air conditioning in the U.S. in the 1980s was the same as it is in Italy today, about 50%. As recently as 1995 over 700 people, all without air conditioning, died in a single U.S. city, Chicago, during a single heatwave. Tragedies like that led to the technology’s rapidly becoming more widespread in the U.S., just as recent heatwaves in Europe are leading it to become more widespread here. There’s evidence that this process is well underway.

Already here in Italy, most public spaces, like offices, supermarkets, movie theaters, and the like are well air conditioned. I’ve benefited from that myself. One hot August afternoon two years ago, I went to my local supermarket in the province of Siena to buy milk. But I lingered much longer than necessary, slowly walking up and down the aisles taking in the variety of things on the shelves as though it were my first time there. I must have looked a bit lost, as the young woman who worked there approached me and asked “Posso aiutarla?” (can I help you?). I sheepishly told her that I was only taking a little time to enjoy the store’s cool air before heading back outside. She laughed and told me that she wasn’t scheduled to work that day but came in anyway just to enjoy the air conditioning.

All of this reflects a reality that can be hard for those living outside of Europe to see. It is not a cultural aversion to air conditioning that has impeded its widespread adoption here (or at least not that alone); it is the fact that, until recently, it has simply not been that hot in Europe. Summertime highs have increased every year since 1980, but it is only in the past decade — and especially the past five years — that they have become high enough to make air conditioning feel necessary. There is little doubt that, after June’s heatwave, the use of air conditioning will become much more widespread in ordinary households.

Even as it does, however, the European approach to it will probably differ from that of the U.S. The cost of electricity is much higher in most of Europe than in the U.S., so most households will likely maintain a temperature that is comfortable, but slightly higher than is common in U.S. homes. Due to the nature of much of European construction—often with very thick stone walls—central air conditioning is sometimes impractical to install, and many homes will simply leave their least-used rooms uncooled and closed during the hottest days.

It also seems likely that many Europeans, and certainly Italians, will supplement their new air conditioning with old and time-tested methods of mitigating the heat so that they can moderate its use—methods that have proved sufficient for centuries, until the recent spike in temperatures. These methods include closing external shutters during the hottest parts of the day to keep sun from heating interiors; opening windows in the cool early morning hours; and closing them again before the heat builds, trapping cool air inside and reducing the need for air conditioning until later in the day.

These are practices that would work equally well in the U.S. and would save both money and energy, just as the increasing adoption of air conditioning in Europe will be a boon to the health of Europeans during the hottest summer days.
Both peoples would benefit from approaching each other’s summer cooling practices with an open-minded curiosity, rather than judgment. If we do, we might delight in what we discover. And our delight might evolve into something more: the adoption of what’s best about the other’s ways, combined with what’s best about our own, until something new develops that feels just as natural as what came before. I speak from experience: my heart no longer sings at the sight of A4 paper. It’s just the size that paper is for me now.

July Recipe: Panzanella (Tuscan Bread Salad)

Of course, another way to stay cool in summer is to enjoy delicious food without having to use the oven or the stove, and simply enjoy summer’s rich rewards: juicy ripe peaches and plums, strawberries that burst with flavor, and a bounty of fresh summer vegetables, with the latter of which the Villa Ardore organic garden is currently overflowing.
Just three weeks ago, most of the plants in the garden’s broad raised beds seemed only half grown. The zucchini were small and tender, their flowers a third as long as the zucchini itself. The pepper plants still had more flowers than peppers, and those that had begun were still small. The lettuces, melons, and gourds had just begun to take shape. And the tomatoes, not much bigger than marbles, were still camouflaged in the same green at the plants’ stalks and leaves. But it is now mid-July, the plants are mature, and their output is prolific.

The next three months will be marked by rise and fall of each plant’s production, and each will have its moment when it will be at the peak of its flavor and outshine the others. This moment, from mid-July to mid-August, belongs indisputably to the tomatoes. They are a deep crimson that can only be described as “tomato red,” so characteristic is the shade. And when the early afternoon sun shines on them, warming them, their scent, unmistakably tomato, fills the air. There is nothing else like it—that first green and peppery scent of their leaves and stems that just barely gives way to the deeper, richer aroma of the fruit itself, somehow bright and rich at the same time.

Later in the season, when tomatoes are still rich with flavor but no longer at their very peak, they will be ideal for sauce. But now they must be eaten as they come, just picked, to be fully appreciated. No doubt this is why they are such a key ingredient of that most Tuscan of summer dishes, panzanella (bread salad), that also appears every summer at this time. Like so much of Tuscan cuisine, this salad has its roots in poor farmers’ need to stretch their resources and let almost nothing go to waste. Its principal ingredient (and reason for its name) is Tuscan country bread that was traditionally used to make this salad, rather than being thrown away or fed to animals, when it had become slightly stale. It is the bread that is really the star of this dish, as you will discover if you make this recipe. But it is the tomato that makes the bread’s star shine.

Consistent with its roots, panzanella is inexpensive, easy to make, and perfect for hot summer days when it’s preferable not to have to use the oven or stove. If you try it, I think that you will find, as we have, that it becomes a summer tradition, and one of those flavors that reminds you of summer as the scent of pine reminds one of Christmas.

Ingredients:
2 medium-size Tomatoes
1 medium-size cucumber
½ of a red onion
½ cup (130 g) of white wine vinegar, divided (see Method steps 1 and 2)
⅔ of a cup plus 2 Tbsp. (100 g) of water, divided (see Method steps 1 and 2)
5-6 oz (150 g) of stale dense country bread
Extra virgin olive oil to taste
Salt to taste
Basil to taste

Method:
1. Cut the bread into cubes and cover it with half of the water and 2 Tbsp (30 g.) of vinegar. Stir and set aside for about 20 minutes.
2. Thinly slice the onion and soak it in the remaining half of the water and the remaining vinegar for about 20 minutes.
3. While the bread and onion are soaking, peel and dice the cucumber and tomatoes.
4. Combine the bread, the drained onion, tomatoes, and cucumbers.
5. Season with salt and extra virgin olive oil. Mix everything together and let it sit at room temperature for about 20 minutes before serving.