Hello friends (and curious strangers),

If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to shop for groceries in Italy, allow me to take you along.

I’ve always had a slightly strange habit when traveling. While some people head straight for museums or famous landmarks, I go to grocery stores. I love seeing what people actually eat—what fills their carts and what everyday life looks like through food.

So when we arrived in our new home in Italy, one of our first priorities was obvious.

We needed groceries.

Our village has a very small grocery store, a butcher shop, and two fruit and vegetable stands—these are great for daily essentials, but when you need to do a larger shop, then you head to the big Italian supermarkets.

Interestingly, many of them are tucked inside shopping malls. You can buy a sweater, stop for coffee, and pick up dinner ingredients all in one trip.

This still feels slightly odd to me.

I remember my first visit to one of these larger grocery stores. I moved slowly up and down every aisle, like a kid in a candy store, taking in all that my new life here offered.

The first thing that got my attention was the pasta.

Entire aisles—sometimes two—are dedicated solely to dried pasta. Every imaginable shape lines the shelves. Long, short, ridged, twisted, tiny, enormous. And that’s only the beginning. Nearby you’ll find fresh and frozen pastas as well…so much pasta.

The produce section might be the most beautiful and my favorite part of the store. It is a feast for the eyes—row after row of ripe, colorful fruits and vegetables piled high, so fresh and beautiful it makes you want to buy one of everything.

Italian grocery stores don’t try to offer everything year-round. Instead, they sell what is in season. When artichokes are in season, they seem to appear everywhere. When the season ends, they simply disappear until next year.

It took me a moment to understand another important detail: you must weigh your own produce. Each fruit or vegetable has a number. After placing your items in a bag, you bring them to a scale, enter the number, and print a small barcode sticker to attach before checkout.

I learned this the hard way.

My first attempt ended with the cashier kindly explaining, in rapid Italian, that I needed to go back and label everything before she could ring me up. So back I went, slightly embarrassed, to weigh my vegetables properly before returning to the line.

Lesson learned.

The deli counter is where all the action is. You take a number and wait your turn while staring down an endless display of meats and cheeses. It is surprisingly hard to stand there patiently waiting your turn while drooling over the smell of all the cured meats and freshly cut cheeses. Whole prosciutto hangs overhead. Salami, mortadella, and spicy ventricina, just to name a few, fill the cases. Massive wheels of Parmigiano Reggiano and Pecorino from all the different regions of Italy sit beside fresh mozzarella and ricotta.

Ordering, however, can be its own adventure when you’re still learning the metric system. A kilogram is easy enough, but smaller amounts require a bit more language skill. Eventually I learned phrases like mezzo chilo for half a kilo, or due etti (200 grams), which is roughly similar to half a pound.

In the beginning, I ordered everything in kilos because it was the only quantity I knew how to say.

One day I decided to be brave and order what I thought was half a kilo of ground beef—just over a pound. I confidently said, “Un chilo mezzo, per favore.” The butcher trimmed the beef and began grinding. And grinding. And grinding.

When she handed me the package, it was much larger than I expected. I looked at the tag and realized my mistake…instead of half a kilo, I had ordered a kilo and a half—about three and a half pounds of ground beef.

I quietly laughed at myself, took the package, and left…

Another time, determined to improve, I decided to order a small amount of prosciutto. When my number was called, I proudly said, “Due letti, per favore.”

The woman behind the counter happened to be my neighbor and friend. She had a quirky smile on her face and explained that it was “etti,” not “letti.”

Apparently I had just ordered two beds instead of cured ham.

So yes… in Italian, the order of words—and sometimes a single letter—matters.

Progress happens one grocery trip at a time.

A few steps farther and you arrive at the seafood counter, beautifully arranged on beds of ice. Italians love seafood, and the selection reflects that. Fresh clams and mussels, octopus, calamari, langoustines, mixed seafood pieces ready for pasta or risotto, and fish varieties I had never encountered before.

The first time I bought fish, I relied heavily on a translation app just to understand what I was looking at.

Monkfish, one of the first seafood dishes we ate after arriving, is widely available here. Back home it felt like a restaurant luxury. Now it’s something we cook regularly. Living here has changed how—and how often—we eat fish.

The meat department offers an array of packaged cuts to choose from or you can speak directly with the butcher, who will grind, cut, or portion meat exactly as requested. In the display case, you will often see large slabs of beef from different countries. Want a thick steak from Ireland or Australia? Just ask, and they’ll cut it however thick you want.

They also make fresh sausages and various flavored breaded cutlets daily, ready to take home and cook.

One unexpected discovery during an early shopping trip stopped me completely—a section dedicated to horse meat. I turned the corner, saw it, and immediately walked out in tears. Living abroad occasionally means encountering cultural differences you aren’t quite prepared for.

And then there is the flour…

Italians bake constantly—bread, pasta, pizza—and grocery stores reflect this devotion. Flours are labeled by grind numbers: 00, 0, 1, and 2, with 00 being the finest. Hard wheat, soft wheat, semolina, farro, rye, Manitoba flour…an entire science exists behind choosing the right one.

I’m still learning.

The bakery section is another favorite of mine. Loaves of Italian breads baked daily in every imaginable shape fill the shelves. You’ll also see a huge “dolce” (sweet) section, brimming with pastries, almost too pretty to eat. The clerk wraps your choices neatly in paper, like a small gift.

Tomatoes are a staple of everyday life here, so you can imagine the huge aisle filled with countless varieties of tomato sauces and canned tomatoes. What’s interesting is that many of them come in jars instead of cans. The San Marzano tomatoes considered specialty items in the United States sit casually on shelves at everyday prices.

The same is true for olive oils, vinegars like balsamic, and olives…things that might feel like specialty items back home but are simply everyday staples here.

Eventually, you reach the checkout line.

And this is where patience becomes necessary.

Lines move slowly, not because anyone is inefficient, but because conversation matters. Cashiers chat with customers. No one rushes. Attempting to hurry the process would be considered rude.

Did you remember to bring your own grocery bags? Forgetting means you’ll have to buy one. I forgot mine often in the beginning, resulting in a growing collection of bags at home. It’s insane how many bags I have in my pantry…I could open my own bag store…I now keep bags in my car at all times, just in case.

Like many things here, grocery shopping took some adjustment. Many of the foods I was used to buying back home simply aren’t available here. I learned to make adjustments to my existing recipes or just created new ones.

One thing is for sure…I’ve noticed our whole way of eating has changed. Our focus is now on simple, fresh, and in season.

Next time, I’ll share one of my favorite hiking experiences in Majella National Park, just outside our back door.

Until next time —

With love from Italy,

Jamie

I usually write every other week — and sometimes more when there’s a good story to tell.