But over time, I have come to prefer simplicity over an exhausting complexity and numbing elaboration. One of the greatest meals in my recent memory took place in a rustic Italian wine cellar in Campania, where, leaning against barrels in the dim light, we bit into balls of warm, creamy buffalo mozzarella, bread torn from a crusty loaf and chunks of spicy dried pork sausage. We drank rough red wine, the perfect complement. The flavors were so elemental, direct and pure that I cannot imagine a better meal, even if we’d had cutlery.