Asti

I’m sitting in LAX this morning at 5am.  I am exhausted and I probably need another cup of coffee.  But underneath it all I can feel myself re-charging.  I’m going home.

Every time, since the very first time I set foot in Italy, I have known I belong there.  A part of me relaxes with the easy, sing-songy cadence of the language.  In Italy, the eager enthusiasm and passion I feel for everyday life is reflected back to me in the people I meet.

They know Life is Beautiful too.

Italians are endlessly charming to me.  They obsess over film, politics, food.  They know there is nothing a shot of perfectly pulled espresso and a warm brioche can’t cure.  They understand my need to cook for people, to invite them into my home, and make them part of my life.  Turning strangers quickly into family.

Brioche

I am American, but I am home in Italy.

I have the great opportunity to spend these next few days exploring Piemonte- a dream for any oenophile.  I hope to come away with some deeper understanding of Nebbiolo, and of all the varied, nuanced, ancient soils and vineyards tucked there in the foothills of those great mountains.

I know I will come away with a deeper understanding of myself.

“I’m coming home./  I’m coming home./ Tell the world I’m coming home/ I know my kingdom awaits” (Diddy Dirty Money)

Elisa and Joanie BW