You invite them over. They’re expecting “pasta night.”
Instead, the evening opens with warm fettunta glistening with new olive oil and a board of finocchiona, pecorino and honey. Then a steaming terracotta pot of ribollita. Then hand-rolled pici. And when the Bistecca arrives, charred outside and ruby inside, somebody puts down their phone.
At the end of the night, cantucci and a little glass of Vin Santo go round the table – and you tell them why Tuscans dip the biscuits in the wine.
That’s the dinner people remember. Not because it was complicated – Tuscan food never is – but because it was real, and because you knew the story behind every plate.
This cookbook gives you exactly that: the dishes, the method that works in an ordinary kitchen abroad, and the stories that turn a meal into an evening your friends will bring up for months.
