I don’t start my days in Italy with an itinerary. I start them with coffee.

In Perinaldo, that usually means wandering into Au Gaggian sometime after 8am — the way the locals do.

No takeaway cups.

No rushing.

No pretending you’re too busy to say hello.

Frederico runs the front of the house. He knows everyone. He greets you like you were here yesterday — even if it’s been a year — and I still can’t tell if that’s warmth, indifference, or the most Italian form of acceptance imaginable. 😄

His brother Fabiano is the quiet genius behind the stove. Rabbit ravioli that makes you stop talking. Braised lamb shanks that feel like a hug after a long day.

Mornings are for espresso, handshakes, gossip, and easing into the day.

Afternoons stretch into long lunches.

Evenings drift toward wine, views over the valley, and that soft moment when the hills roll down toward the Mediterranean and everything feels… settled.

This is what I love most about Italy.

Life isn’t optimized.

It’s inhabited.

And this is exactly why my culinary retreats don’t revolve around “must-see” lists or flashy luxury.

They’re built around places like this.

Tables where locals linger.

Food with a story.

Days that unfold instead of being scheduled.

If you’ve ever dreamed of traveling through Italy (or France) like this — eating well, slowing down, and reconnecting with your favorite human along the way — that’s the experience I create.

No buses. No crowds. No pretending.

Just real places, incredible food, and time to be together again.

If this speaks to you, send me a message or comment “Italy” and I’ll tell you what the next retreat looks like 🤍

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