This is the last post for this year, written during those days in a bubble I love so much, those days when Christmas has already passed, when you still have the taste of icing sugar and panforte spices on your lips. If you turn around, Christmas is already hidden, wrapped in…
Christmas at home is a postcard. Each one has a role, as in a theatrical operetta: everyone has his lines or his stage costumes. There have been the same smells for decades, the chicken liver crostini and the spices of panforte hovering from mid-December to the Epiphany on the 6th…
I was born in the countryside of Colle Val d'Elsa, in between Siena and Florence. The sea is only an hour away as the crow flies: on a windy summer day I can almost smell the brackish air carried by the breeze. Yet fish rarely appears in our traditional cuisine.…
Today I'm sitting in the living room, right in front of the wood-burning stove: finally the cold weather has arrived. I'm not used to stay still anymore, so I immediately seek a source of heat: a cup of steaming black tea, a wool blanket, the roaring fire. We spent the…
Yesterday I photographed until five in the afternoon, until the light outside allowed me to see something on the set. When I looked up from my computer, I suddenly found myself in such a dark kitchen that I could hardly tell apart the shape of the tripod that stood out…
More than about an achievement, today I'm telling you about an endeavour, a continuous fight to wake up early. I usually set my alarm for about six o'clock. I hit the snooze button twice, three times, until I find the courage to put my feet on the ground. Luckily I…
On a November afternoon, when the light was already revealing the evening intentions and the proximity of a winter that I hope will respect its promises of slowness and coziness, I made a coffee, stole two cookies from the jar and sat in front of my blog. I consider it…
I am traditional. A few days ago I found myself kneading, as if I had received an order from another time. An internal clock, tuned in to the coming and going of seasons, reminded me that the day of the pan co' santi had come. It is a dense bread,…
