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.


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