There are times, especially evenings, where I understand the meaning of my love for cooking or food and wine in general. There are times, especially bad ones, in which I feel overwhelmed by the flow of life, from external impositions, from all those contingencies that make me lose control of what I think is most important and rare: my time.
In this unequal struggle in which I try to steal time to time, food is a valuable ally. Food not just as simply eating, not even as a cultural meaning in the sense of the word snob, rather food as a moment of reflection, as a pause, as a spontaneous and informal concentration on flavor, on the story, on the passion of producers and on everything we put in our mouths. so, food as a discovery, and what could be better than the new, the unknown and doubts, to fight time?
If then in front of…
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