This year the end of summer brought a mixture of nostalgia and relief. They have been exhausting months, not only for the heat and for the long working hours spent in the kitchen. The arrival of Teo, a two-year-old white Spinone dog that we adopted from a rescue house, has…
Saturday evening eating out in Mensanello, our neighbouring farm, is a treat. You get to eat honest food, made with their home-grown ingredients, surrounded by fields of golden wheat. As comforting as eating at home, without the hassle of dishes to wash. Among a wooden board loaded with ripe melon…
As a child, we would buy ricciarelli in boxes at the supermarket. The cavallucci would arrive at home in a paper bag from San Gimignano, my granddad Remigio would purchase them in an old grocery store where he used to shop for everything he needed. We would also buy slices of panforte, sticky and traditional. A few…
Driving back home at the beginning of summer is refreshing. You can almost hear the grass growing, the hedgerows are exploding with white flowers and the fields shine with just the most pale tone of yellow, treasuring the rich green for some more days. You can spot wild fennel from afar. It loves growing…
In a few days this blog will turn seven. It all began as a tasty hobby, not it is my job. This is the place where I can write about my life and the last recipes I've been enjoying in the kitchen, where we can meet, following the rhythms imposed…
Since I opened my blog, the pleasure of meeting new people went hand in hand with the urgency of turning those virtual contacts as soon as possible into real friendships, with a personal tone of voice, with a body I could hug, with the thrill of a proper conversation around a table…
Autumn crawled in. Until a few days ago I would wake up in the morning and open wide the windows to let the crisp morning air in, I would walk barefoot in the house and choose wisely the lightest clothes in the wardrobe. Then one morning it silently came in. I…
You might think I had lost the password to enter the blog or that I had chosen a strictly off line holidays, as I've been strangely silent in the last weeks. I traveled, I went to the Oxford Syposium on Food and Cookery, I devoured all Ruth Reichl's books, captured by…
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.