A note from my kitchen
Bits and bobs from the first days of the year | Winter soups, snowy mornings, and a few things to read and cook
L'Epifania tutte le feste si porta via.
Epiphany sweeps away the holidays.
I waited to write to you until after la Befana, as we call Epiphany in Italy. For years, the 6th of January used to make me feel a little melancholic. It marked the end of a season of lights, sparkles, gifts, sweet treats and celebration, and the return to bleak, cold days, still far from the spring I so longed for. I had yet to discover the charm of winter, or how much I needed it as a time to pause, recharge, and gather strength before starting again. But I guess this is more a grown up thing, hard to understand when you’re younger.
2025 has been heavy, a year filled with losses and goodbyes I knew were coming, but which still left behind sorrow and absence. It was the year I truly realised I was an adult, able to face grief and challenges with more courage than I thought I had in me.
So in these first few days of the year, I felt a real need to slow down, to retreat into my home as in a warm cocoon. And then, on the day of the Befana, it snowed.
We hadn’t seen snow in years, and Livia had never seen it at all. It fell in big, soft flakes, white on white, covering the ground like a dusting of icing sugar that quickly grew thick. I couldn’t contain my joy.
For the first time in years, I felt winter in my bones and in my gut, the kind of winter—stark, unapologetic, fierce—that makes a clean sweep. After the snow came the sharp cold, then those clean, sugar-paper-blue skies.
This year, after a morning spent in joy and wonder—first discovering what la Befana had brought (chocolates, sweet coal, but also nail polish and a unicorn blanket that instantly became Livia’s new uniform), then letting snow melt on our tongues and on the tips of our noses for the first time—we gently put Christmas away. Not with sadness, nor with hurried indifference. We packed away the decorations, tucked carefully into repurposed boxes, neatly labelled and covered with hearts (Livia, armed with masking tape and a permanent marker, is a force to be reckoned with!).
We made the house ready for the next three months of winter: the wood stacked by the stove, the wool blanket my grandmother made – blue and green checks – folded on the sofa, a few candles scattered around, and a fresh stash of herbal infusions to sip steaming hot throughout the day while working at our newly refurbished table in the living room.
Here we are, in a winter I’m ready to embrace rather than skip through on the way to spring. I wouldn’t have the energy for spring right now anyway.
Because right now, I need slowness, softness, warmth. I’ll leave the January detox, the new year, new me, the push for productivity to others. I’m easing into this fifth year on Substack at a slower pace, but with a few reading suggestions, and a few recipes to cook while it’s cold outside, to bring colour and flavour to the first months of the year.
It’s so good to be back.
I'd love to hear how you're easing into the new year. Are you craving slowness too? Or are you jumping straight into resolutions? Hit reply and tell me what January feels like for you.
Something to cook
In January, once the festivities are behind us, I find myself craving both comforting, brothy soups and stews, and crisp, zesty, enlivening salads.
On one hand, I long for comfort in a bowl, heartwarming soups and stews, the kind that warm the kitchen as they bubble gently on the stove, and later your hands, your stomach, your soul. Something easy, like the curried cauliflower, leek, chard and cod soup I made the other day, made impossibly creamy with a tin of coconut milk. It was nothing more than a scavenger soup: a handful of vegetables from the fridge, a few pantry staples, and two frozen fillets of cod1. And yet, I couldn’t stop telling Tommaso how good it was, delighting out loud every two spoonfuls.
Here are a few more cosy favourites: creamy Tuscan kale, leek and potato soup | Beans and pasta soup | Bean and farro soup | Florentine beef stew
On the other hand, I’m all in for bright, zesty, colourful salads (I actually tend to eat more salads in winter than in summer, probably due to my undying love for radicchio). Yesterday’s dinner was a case in point: a raw salad of artichokes, celery, fennel and parsley, doused in lemon juice and olive oil (our own olive oil, still peppery and pleasantly bitter, two months after pressing). The twist that elevated this simple salad to wine-bar-worthy levels was a generous shaving of bottarga on top. I’ll be making it non-stop all winter long.
Today, I also made a Tuscan kale salad with Caesar salad ambitions: made with a creamy, savoury dressing that softens the shredded cavolo nero leaves, and enriched with toasted walnuts and bread croutons. I called that lunch. It was delicious, and I’m already thinking about serving it on Saturday when I’ll have friends over for dinner.
For more bright, wintery salads, try these: blood orange and fennel salad | grilled radicchio salad with walnuts and cheese | cavolo nero salad with walnuts, orange and honey
What’s simmering on your stove these days?
Have you discovered a new soup or salad that’s helping you through winter?
Share your favourites in the comments, or reply to this email, I’d love to hear!
Something to bake
On January the 5th, we made befanini, soft Tuscan cookies from Viareggio and the Versilia area, usually made in the days leading up to the 6th of January, when we celebrate the Epiphany – or la Befana, as it’s known in Italy.
Even though the gingerbread girl turned out looking more like a fertility goddess than a Christmas figure, I took it as a good omen for a prosperous year ahead.
Softer than those made with pasta frolla, it took me a few tries to get the dough just right, enriched with both the zest and juice of an orange, which leaves a lingering, citrusy aroma. Just before baking, they’re brushed with egg yolk and topped with colourful sprinkles.
So why am I sharing them now, after the official end of the festive season? Thanks to their bold orange flavour, they’re the perfect biscuits to nibble on throughout January, especially with a steaming cup of tea. They bring a little cheer and colour to a month that can otherwise feel a bit grey and hard to get going.
More recipes to bake right now: chocolate and clementine olive oil cake | chestnut flour and chocolate biscotti | Artusi’s lemon pudding
Most of the recipes are behind paywall. So, if you want to join our community, here’s a little discount for you. Also, remember that our cook alongs are coming back in a few weeks!
Something to read and listen to
I received Home, by India Knight, for Christmas. I had to hand-deliver my letter to Santa Claus, but it worked. What a delight! This book is the epitome of cosiness—the perfect read for a calm winter night (though honestly, it's lovely all year round). I’m savouring it room by room, taking mental notes of everything I’d love to improve in our flat (warm lighting! texture! colour!).
The New Roman Times, 26 Places in Italy to Inspire Your 2026 Travels. I shared with Laura Itzkowitz a place that should be on your radar for 2026 and why I think it’s worth visiting. My choice was Mugello, and you can read more about why I love it in Laura’s newsletter.
A year in a Tuscan Cooking school: January. I’ll be reminding you about these past newsletters every month, as they are brimming with recipes, ingredients insights and seasonal inspiration.
For the same reason, this crowd-sourced post about celeriac.
Just before Christmas I had a chat with Viviana for The Italian Radio Hour. We talked about the cultural meaning of stale bread in Tuscan cooking, why cucina povera feels more relevant than ever today, seasonal cooking, sustainability and zero waste, and preserving Italy’s regional food traditions through storytelling. There’s also a little anticipation about our upcoming cookbook.
A couple of months ago I recorded an interview with Sonia from Neumann Consult. It was great fun! We talked about how sustainable travel, culinary culture, and hospitality in Tuscany inspire and influence one another. Don’t be put off by the introduction in German—the interview is in English! Listen to the interview here.
If you enjoyed this newsletter, consider forwarding it to a friend
who might need a little warmth, a good recipe, or a gentle start to the year.
This year, I’ve made it a goal to eat more fish and less meat. Good-quality frozen fish, when picked from trusted brands that follow sustainable practices, can be a real lifesaver, for both your schedule and your wallet.
I feel this year I would follow more the momentum of the moment rather than rationally organize it all. Action versus planning of actions.
💛💛💛