A slice of apple cake resting on a rustic table, the inviting smell of sugar and butter warmed up by a ray of sunshine… Yeah, you would presume that this is the natural light of an arched window overlooking the hills in front of Casole, right? Well, no, this photo was taken during Dario Milano‘s food styling and food photography workshop, which was held last Saturday at the Verrocchio Art Centre. And I was using artificial lighting…

An illuminating day, it is appropriate to say. Dario’s professionalism, enthusiasm, generosity and curiosity of Darius have charmed our group of foodbloggers, foodies and photographers. We were completely in awe.

A few shots to describe emotionally a day of discovery, friendship and inspiration.

Read the rest of this entry »

October in the popular imagination is supposed to be the month when we step lightly into the ‘normal’ life, when you finally manage to rearrange your time schedule including the essential-for-your-self-esteem swimming class, the well deserved drink with your best friend, the quiet, calm and old style hour under the wool blanket reading your last book.

This year I’m not yet there, I’m still struggling to reach my balance of warm socks, soft scarves and well organized calendars. Hopefully November will bring the lilting rhythm of winter, in the meantime I try to carve out when I can a few minutes of stillness, in a ritual that gives me peace of mind.

The protagonist of my ritual is the 6pm slanting light, the light of the afternoon that is getting shorter day by day, the light of the resting sun that casts warm golden glows on any surface it  caresses. Usually in this moment of the day I’m in the car, coming back home from the office, listening to the radio and dancing with my dreams in the afternoon light, lost in its games between the branches of trees.

I escape from reality and take a deep breath in the favourite corner of my mind. I built there an ideal pub where I can chat with my friends, enjoying the last sun of the day in the garden behind the kitchen, over a small stream that runs lively a few meters below.

Read the rest of this entry »

Until recently, the meat universe was generally unknown. What happened in the kitchen on Sunday mornings between my mum, the stove and the smell of roast was a mystery in which I used to cradle me, unaware of the joy you can feel when you are the author of those scents of home.

Yes, because if home is where there is a family, home is where there is a hot soup in the winter evenings and the five o’clock tea and biscuits, home is also where the earth smells wonderfully of forest after the rain, where the smell of roast welcomes you in the kitchen, caressing your senses and soothing the worries.

I decided to start cooking pieces of meat a little bit more challenging then a veal roll or a chicken curry for this reason: I wanted to be aware of the act of creating the magic spell of being at home, to be eventually the architect of a diffuse sense of well-being, of a pleasant numbness so typical of family Sunday mornings.

Read the rest of this entry »

Yet Emiko said it: don’t spread yourself too thin. Do not use all of your strength committing yourself into too many activities, otherwise at some point all your energy will slip out of your hand, scattering in thin streams and losing the usual sharp incisiveness.

When someone knows you so well is rarely wrong, and in fact it happened. I’m living a beautiful and intense time, crammed of things I want to do, see, learn, study, of friends who deserve my undivided attention because they are about to move away, too far away to answer the last minute call to cook together a winter and cosy lunch during one of the hottest days in August (with the fireplace roaring in the background, just to say).

And so I find myself sitting at my desk in the evening with the cool breeze that finally comes in from the ajar window, staring blankly at my to-do list scribbled down on a sheet of paper, list that increases instead of decreasing day by day.

Read the rest of this entry »

One of the elements of the Tuscan cuisine that most fascinates me and makes me proud is that there are just a few rules, but they are to be regarded as a dogma. These rules describe concisely – through the pairing of ingredients, herbs and spices – our culinary culture and Nature’s seasons. These rules are interpreted by every family, according to their personal tastes and likes.

At home my mother is the strictest judge in the enforcement of these rules, which apply equally to stuffed vegetables and legumes – herb matches.

If the rosemary – intense and camphorated with a distant incense smell – traditionally marries beautifully with roast meat, baked potatoes and grilled meats, for us its flavour calls for chickpeas and a hearty sprinkling of freshly ground black pepper.

Read the rest of this entry »