Last week, this blog turned 11 years old. On the same day, February the 1st, we celebrated 1 year of our podcast, Cooking with an Italian Accent, and 3 years of Romula, the company that Tommaso and I created to officially work together, a commitment that anticipated our wedding, too!…
Reading the words that guided me through the last two years, I see a pattern. In 2018, I chose craft and seasonality. My plan was to hone my skills, working like an artisan, and have a seasonal approach to life, not just to cooking. I didn’t want to waste time,…
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…
Easter for me are the church bells ringing in the morning sun and a new Spring coat, the Tuscan Easter schiacciata from San Gimignano and the dark chocolate, the fresh pasta and the spring vegetables, the lamb and the blessed eggs. Easter is the beginning of the good season and…
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…
My mum used to say that I had started a food blog as I had plenty of free time: I still didn’t have a boyfriend at the advanced age of twenty-eight. Once you’ll find someone, you won’t have time for the blog anymore, she would say, looking up to the…
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 have always lived in the countryside, in the same house where grandma and dad were born, but for years the countryside was little more than a well-kept garden, an olive tree orchard and a hedgerow of blackberries at the end of summer. My parents belong to that generation, grown…