If London is good for the wellbeing of my brain, then Italy is the balm for my heart. In no way does it need soothing but who ever said no to a trip to Italy and didn’t regret it? When I started writing this there was a pile of funghi di Galetto next to me which were being prepared for lunch. I had only just finished my breakfast and I was already salivating. The day before I was treated to the most incredible (and easy) frittata made with pounds of zucchini (one has to be inventive when the neighbours start saying no to the free produce and the freezer is already stocked with the stuff) and a slightly different take on the Sicilian caponata, with potatoes added. On top of this there was an impromptu wine tasting as one of the family members has decided to jump into the world of selling organic wines. I didn’t mind being a guinea pig (if you find yourself in Singapore, feel free to check out Dellarosa Wines). Food is never far from the mind of an Italian. At dinner we spoke about what we had for lunch and at breakfast we spoke about what we would have for lunch (and dinner). A few days later, unable to go to the beach because the weather wasn’t quite perfect, we went to a masseria where, my God, the food… The antipasti alone was a meal. Luckily we stopped after il primo because I couldn’t have managed il secondo. Who knew that a sort of very mildly fried ball of stale bread sitting in the simplest of tomato sauces could taste SO delicious? I’ll be dreaming of that for a long time I think. Generally speaking my strongest memories revolve around food and so this is my kind of place. And yet… I am running away from my business that involves making food. Allora nessuno sa il futuro. Food for thought.