Yesterday I took home a wonderful cheese I had never had before. I got it at a store where the owners know their products and how to match your tastes with a selection of cheese. I took it home with a loaf of bread from the French bakery down the road.
Along with a glass of wine and simple mixed salad of 4 lettuces, small multicolored sweet peppers, mushrooms, tomato and good extra virgin olive oil and Modena balsamic vinegar, called it dinner.
It brought me back to Riomaggiore, where my husband and I stayed 2 days last year. After traveling around Italy, eating in restaurants (not that i am complaining about this at all), we wanted a simple dinner. Since we had a kitchenette and a view to die for, we tossed up some fresh pasta with pesto, a specialty of the region, with a fresh salad and grated parmesan reggiano, bread and of course wine. We sat and watched the sun set, living “la dolce vita” with the simplest of meals. I never felt so at peace. So last night evoked this memory, but without a view of the Mediterranean. I had to settle for the golf course out the back window.