We are used to mapping the world by continents, dividing the globe into rigid geopolitical blocks. But to understand the complex reality behind each border, we are better off using a different, edible kind of cartography. For most of human existence, the Mediterranean has existed as an intercultural entity in its own right, where peoples and languages from different lands blur the lines that constitute modern frontiers. And nowhere is this shared regional identity more beautifully preserved than in Mediterranean kitchens.

Tracing the Italian Tyrrhenian coast, crossing the sea down to the shores of north Africa and then winding up to the Côte d’Azur, you will find a culinary pattern uniting diverse societies: an elemental batter of chickpea flour, water and olive oil. Baked in blazing wood ovens or deep‑fried in pans, it changes its name at every port, but its soul stays the same: a golden, sometimes crispy, sometimes soft proof that the peoples of the Mediterranean share a singular history that defies modern political boundaries.

I first noticed the contours of this grand alternative map in Tuscany. Arriving in Pisa on a foggy winter night after a long road trip, I slipped into the narrow medieval alleyways around the Borgo Stretto and, just past a quiet corner, the neon glow of Pizzeria Il Montino offered a sign of life. I quickly realised the crowd hadn’t gathered for pizza: nearly everyone was queueing for cecina, a golden chickpea pancake, steaming from the oven. The cook dusted my slice with a generous crack of black pepper and handed it over. It was love at first bite.

A few miles down the coast lies Livorno, and I remembered a........

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