In late August, Eataly, a 50,000-square-foot emporium of Italian cuisine, swung open its doors. Located where Broadway, Fifth Avenue and 23rd Street meet in Manhattan, Eataly became an instant object of affection for New York's fooderati, who would queue for up to an hour just to get inside. This new-concept supermarket, founded in Turin in 2007 by Oscar Farinetti, is (predictably enough) in partnership with Mario Batali and Joe Bastianich. Sam Sifton, the New York Times restaurant critic called it "a retail love letter to Italy." Which sounds about right. It seems that disliking Eataly in New York is tantamount to being tied to a stake, spit roasted and fed as a snack to the hungry people clamoring to get inside this gastronomic monstrosity. But I'm willing to take that chance. Let me explain.

Rewind three years. I was in Turin, the handsome capital of Piedmont in northwestern Italy and in between interviews with occultists, crystal-rubbing psychics, and Holy Shroud experts---because that's who one finds in Turin---I wandered into a silly named supermarket across the street from my hotel. And wow, did I have a different kind of spiritual experience. This was no ordinary supermarket. It was revolutionary. I quickly met Eataly's founder, Oscar Farinetti, and he gave me a tour of the store, which had only been open a couple months. For starters, he told me, the place was sanctioned by Slow Food, which means an emphasis on local products and buying from local organic farmers. Aisles were lined with (mostly) artisanal Italian food products, organic produce, and miles of wine and beer. But the real game changer was this: in each section of this grocery story there was a restaurant that was congruent with whatever that department sold. Opposite the displays of iced fish, for example, was a long counter where chefs were serving up crudo and seafood-laced pasta to shoppers. Same with in the butcher's and produce departments. In the beer section downstairs was an eatery with a menu that paired nicely with beer. Same with the wine section. And that old man sitting alone at a table near the door? He was a retired Michelin-starred chef, hired by Eataly to sit there and give cooking advice to any shopper who wanted it. Could there be a better, more user-friendly supermarket, I wondered?