A traditional Tuscan menu for Christmas and a roast pork loin with pears
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…
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…
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…
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…
When I think about Valentine's Day and love, everything begins with Noa. I see myself in her way to deal with love and family. When we sit together drinking a tea on…
Summer is late. Lettuce and rocket are growing slowly in the garden, shy yellow zucchini flowers play hide and seek behind the green furry leaves. Tomatoes have just leaves, not…
Grandma keeps her cookbooks on a shelf near the fireplace. Less than a dozen books, the same since I can remember. Pellegrino Artusi's book is the most worn out, her reference book…
I fell in love with Livorno thanks to one of my dearest friends, Laura. Her grandmother Rina used to live there, right next to the stadium and the swimming pool. After a…
Today, in the early morning, I was at the gym, on a treadmill. I was listening to my favourite podcast, working out yesterday's pizza, and I was brainstorming new ideas with my dear friend…