Don't tell me it is too early to start thinking about Christmas. Sometimes, in order not to get caught up in the anxiety and thus spoil the festive atmosphere, a bit of organisation and bland planning are the only way to enjoy those days before Christmas, which otherwise always pass…
I came back home, after an hour spent at the local swimming pool, wearing just a light jacket, with slightly wet hair and bare ankles. In the parking lot, you could hear the crickets singing, and you could see the stars peeping through the pine trees. I had on my…
It was the beginning of June, summer was nothing more than a promise in the air. Tommaso and I drove to Val d’Orcia to meet Sabrina and Barbara, the two sisters who own Villa Pienza. It was our first time there, though we felt at home as soon as the…
Nonna still keeps her big book on herbs and flowers on a bookrest in her living room. It has a central position in her home. When I was a child, I could spend hours leafing through that massive, fascinating volume, full of drawings, photos, recipes and remedies. Summer had the…
Summer began on Friday, around five in the afternoon, when I arrived at home. As soon as we got out of the car, I immediately felt the heat rising from the sun-baked stones. Grandma was outside, in the garden, hanging out the clothes on the drying rack, hidden in the…
These are sunny days that taste like early Spring, days of morning walks in the countryside before work. I feel the vibrations of the upcoming season, so I try to shake off the fatigue of a tiring winter, which I had completely underestimated. I channel this energy in the kitchen,…
January and February are two months that we spend mostly working from home. During the rest of the year, we divide ourselves in between the studio kitchen and our smaller kitchen at home, bringing up and down the stairs cast iron pots, already photographed recipes that need only need to…
For years Mensanello has been just a nearby working Tuscan farm. My grandmother has aways referred to the Fattore and Fattoressa, the farm manager and his wife, with enormous respect. Mum used to buy fresh eggs from the Fattoressa, we used to go there on a Sunday to mass. There was a…
I’ve written my first acceptance speech, sitting at my tiny desk in the living room with a stained apron, dreaming to wear a red dress and high heels and to stand in front of some of the best food writers, bloggers and editors of our time. I am sure I would have cried, I’m emotional.