A Year in a Tuscan Cooking School: April

100 students, 10 classes, 4 market visits, and a lot of leftover magic. Come see what spring looked like in our Tuscan cooking school, and discover our favorite seasonal recipes.

Welcome to the fourth installment of “A Year in a Tuscan Cooking School”. Spring is finally here! Each month, I open the doors of my cooking school to share a more intimate look into daily life in Tuscany: its flavors, its people, and the gentle rhythm of the seasons. From market finds to the memorable encounters during our classes, every story is rooted in the beauty of what’s fresh and in season.

This isn’t just a monthly update. It’s a slow journey, like leafing through the pages of a favorite cookbook. Each installment is an invitation to pause, reflect, and delve a little deeper into the heart of Tuscan food and culture. If you're new to the series, you can revisit the first two installments here: January, February, and March.

Thank you for your warm feedback on this experimental column! They inspire me to notice the little things, take notes, and keep sharing these glimpses of Tuscan life with you.

APRIL

When I started writing this newsletter, I was sitting at a corner table in the spacious, sunlit new location of Forno Pellegrino, our local bakery. Once a week, we claim a table, bring our laptops, and turn it into the best coworking space in town. Now—and hopefully this will be the day I actually finish writing the April edition of A Year in a Tuscan Cooking School—I’m typing from my couch, already in pajamas, with our dog Teo snoring beside me, while we half-watch the final episode of Bosch: Legacy.

It’s becoming harder to find a couple of uninterrupted writing days, something I dearly need to shape longer newsletters like this one. The class season is in full swing, and we’re playing a lively chess game with Italian spring festivities, Liberation Day, and bank holidays. Our hearts are full–long chats with friends, family gatherings, shared meals—but so are our days, stretched thin between work and the unstoppable energy of a four-year-old who’s reveling in her extra days off from school.

So, in between late afternoon walks to pick flowers for the studio—my current favorite is Philadelphus coronarius (sweet mock orange, or English dogwood)—and some more recipe testing for new projects, I mostly taught classes, cleaned the studio day in, day out, and did a good bit of gardening to make the outdoor space colorful and inviting.

Our lemon and orange trees are back outside, the strawberry plants are dotted with tiny white blossoms, my very first peony has bloomed, and I’m holding out big hopes for my dahlias.

This is our April in numbers

100 students, 10 cooking classes, 4 market visits. We welcomed guests from near and far: Australia (Queensland), Canada (Montreal and Toronto), Italy (Turin), the USA (Los Angeles, Wisconsin, Texas, North Carolina, and beyond), as well as Israel, Portugal, and India. And, as always, little moments of magic happen: this time, two couples—both originally from New Zealand but now living in Canada—met during a class and discovered they not only shared mutual friends but had once lived in the same small town. I absolutely love when serendipity brings people together like that!

[Our classes are now 80% full, so if you’re planning a trip to Tuscany this year, don’t wait too long! Do reach out and book your class with us! Read more about our classes here]

What we cooked during the April cooking classes

I like to change the menu from class to class, improvising with what we find at the market or tailoring dishes to the students’ preferences. Still, there are some faithful recipes that keep returning, dishes that speak the language of the season, making the most of fleeting ingredients like wisteria blossoms, agretti, or firm, plump artichokes.

Appetizers

• Fried sage leaves (and flowers). Don’t come too close in Spring, I might batter and fry you as well. Sage leaves and sage flowers, now blooming in my garden, are a perfect aperitivo from the Tuscan countryside. My recipe is on the blog here.

• Raw artichoke salad. When using artichokes as the main ingredient of a carpaccio, you’ll want the freshest, youngest ones you can find. Shave them finely and dress with your best extra virgin olive oil and a splash of lemon juice. A few curls of Parmigiano Reggiano or Tuscan pecorino bring it all together. Get the recipe here.

• Green Panzanella. Toast chunks of crusty country bread in a drizzle of olive oil until golden and crisp, almost like little croutons, ready to soak up all the flavourful juices to come. Get the recipe here.

• Fava bean and pecorino salad. One of our favorite springtime appetizers, and a classic pairing for April and May picnics. I often pair fava bean and pecorino in muffins and savory ciambellone, too.

• Frittata trippata. Omelet strips stewed in a rich tomato sauce and baked with a dusting of pecorino romano. This dish always surprises guests: humble in ingredients, yet deeply satisfying. The recipe is in Cucina Povera, page 101.

First Courses

• Cavatelli with artichoke sauce. A celebration of spring artichokes in a creamy, delicate sauce that clings to every curve of the cavatelli. Learn how to make cavatelli here.

• Tagliatelle with spring vegetables. The tagliatelle soak up all the flavour of tender spring vegetables such as peas, fava beans, and asparagus. More on tagliatelle here. 

• Pici with roasted carrots and pecorino. Pici are such fun to make, especially as a group. We even made them together during a cook-along here. The roasted carrot sauce, sweet and earthy, balances beautifully with a generous grating of pecorino. But you’ll have to wait for our next cookbook for this recipe!

• Potato and artichoke tortelli. I first made this recipe during one of the early classes of the season, and it was an instant hit, so much so that even Tommaso asked me to make it again soon. The recipe is in one of the recent newsletters, here.

Main Courses

• Roasted chicken. Once spatchcocked, I season it simply with salt and pepper, then scatter over a generous handful of herbs—rosemary, sage, tarragon, thyme, and bay leaves. Roasted in a hot oven until golden and crisp, it’s one of those dishes that fills the whole house with a welcoming aroma (and requires you to clean the oven afterwards!).

• Scamerita. Slices of pork neck brushed with mustard, coated in breadcrumbs, and pan-fried with garlic and rosemary until golden. A humble cut, a favorite of Tuscan cuisine, elevated by simple but punchy ingredients.

• Stuffed zucchini with tuna. One of my nonna’s recipes, and a sure sign that spring is in full swing. I always make this dish when I find those small, round zucchini at the market. I have the recipe on the blog here.

• Pork loin with onions. A twist on this classic recipe, swapping apples for onions, which turn sweet and meltingly soft as they cook alongside the meat.

Side dishes

• Double cooked broccoli. First, simmered slowly until meltingly soft, then sautéed with plenty of extra virgin olive oil, garlic, a pinch of chilli, and just a hint of anchovy. Everyone is always surprised by how long it takes to get the broccoli so buttery, but by the end, they’re completely won over.

• Stewed artichokes with herbs and garlic. A gently simmered side dish that brings out the artichokes’ natural sweetness. It’s also one of the recipes from our upcoming cookbook, and doubles beautifully as a pasta sauce.

• Blanched agretti, monk’s beard, dressed simply with extra virgin olive oil and a squeeze of lemon juice.

Desserts

• Strawberry sorbet. Bright, refreshing, and seasonal. It’s the loveliest way to end a meal on a fresh spring note.

• Wisteria fritters. More on wisteria below, but let me just say: they’ve been a quiet hit this year. Poetic and elegant, as if spring had a flavor.

• Robinia fritters. Their season is fleeting, so make the most of it while you can. There’s a recipe tucked away in the blog archive here.

• Marinated strawberries. I serve them with sabayon, or with ricotta whipped with sugar and vanilla. They turn silky and glossy after just a short time resting with sugar and lemon juice or, for something even more floral, elderflower syrup.

• Baked apples with sabayon. Always my go-to recipe for baked apples, and this is the recipe for sabayon.

• Ricotta crumb cake with strawberries, inspired by this cake, but baked in a rectangular tin with a hidden layer of strawberry jam on the bottom.

The difficult part of all of this? Dealing with leftovers. 

Sort them out, divide into tupperwares, stash some in the fridge for dinner, others in the freezer for later. Call a few friends for an impromptu dinner and clear out a couple of tubs. Elevate some leftovers into something new (blanched agretti are great when added to a chickpea cake), or—on those evenings when you’ve truly had enough—just slide a frozen pizza into the oven and call it a night.

What about you? I’d love to hear what April has looked like in your kitchen. Reply to this email or leave a comment!

April’s favorites from the market

Fresh Peas

I shelled fresh peas for the first time as an adult. I was probably too young to remember when our peas came from my grandma’s garden, if she ever grew them. My mum, on the other hand, had always bought frozen peas. They would come out of a plastic bag, so convenient and quick to prepare. Those peas, cooked simply with garlic and sage, were our go-to side dish when spring arrived, especially on Sundays, alongside roast beef or lamb. Once you try fresh peas, though, there’s no going back.

It’s not just the striking difference in flavor, so sweet and delicate. You fall in love with the ritual of shelling them: the almost hypnotic rhythm as you open the velvety pods, each one cradling a family of shy peas; the soft thud as the peas fall into the salad bowl; their scent of green and spring.

At the market, you can spot fresh peas from a distance, usually piled high alongside bunches of fresh garlic, a hint at how best to cook them. Fresh peas and garlic are a match made in heaven, the stars of a typical Florentine side dish: piselli alla Fiorentina.

I’m going through so many peas these days. Fresh peas from the market can be expensive, even when in season, so I try to make the most of them. Just as you might make stock from chicken bones after a roast, I save the pea pods and make a flavorful stock from them. After 45 minutes of slow simmering, I strain the stock and freeze it; then, I blend the now-soft pods, pass them through a sieve to remove the fibres, and freeze the pea purée as well. When I’m craving a pea risotto, I simply defrost a bag of stock and a bag of purée, and there it is: a delicious, verdant risotto without peas!

Asparagus

Thick and white, bright green with tips tinged purple, wild and slender: the asparagus family is wide and wonderfully diverse. 

My father used to love them quickly blanched and dipped in mayonnaise. Not exactly a Tuscan habit, but excessively delicious all the same. My grandmother would gather the wild ones from the woods and turn them into a frittata.

These days, I prefer to blanch them, or grill them until they’re slightly charred. A softly boiled egg, a generous handful of fresh herbs like mint and arugula, and a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil turn them into a light, perfect spring meal. Just make sure you have some crusty bread ready.

April’s favorites from the garden

Robinia Flowers

I grew up recognising Spring in the smell of robinia blooming underneath my bedroom window. As a child, I used to play with dried robinia flowers collected on the ground to make what I would call mangiarini, inedible potions which were the closest attempt to recreate real food with what I could collect in the garden.

Now that I moved a few meters from my parents house, the big robinia tree is just in front of my kitchen window. During Spring I keep my windows wide open to let that wonderful honeyed aroma in.

Robinia, also known as black locust, or false acacia, was introduced in Europe from North America in 1601 by the botanist Jean Robin, gardener and herbalist of the French kings. We can still admire the first robinia he planted in Paris, in Place Dauphine. Apparently all the European acacia trees descend from that first tree planted by Jean Robin.

Bees love robinia. You probably had the chance to taste a spoon of its pale runny honey, floral and delicate. When you bite into a robinia flower fritter you are first inebriated by the persistent smell, then you are hit by the mellow honey taste of the flowers, with a delicate hint of vanilla.

Robinia flowers are considered a delicacy, not just by bees! The most common use of robinia flowers in the kitchen is to deep fry them and serve the fritters either as a sweet treat or as an appetizer. But passionate foragers have been using the robinia flowers also to make a risotto with Parmigiano Reggiano, or in a cake batter for a moist, heady crumb, or even in an apple jam.

Elderflowers

As soon as April comes, when I drive in the countryside or along the motorway, I’m constantly searching for the white elderflowers, as their first appearance represents the blooming of Spring, the good season of foraging.

And all of a sudden, there they are, creamy white parasol-shaped clusters of tiny flowers, with a heady aroma, punctuating the countryside, especially along little streams and on the edges of cultivated fields and woods.

Elderflowers, just like robinia flowers, can be used to make fritters, either sweet or savoury. They can be infused overnight in cream, or milk, to make gelato, panna cotta, or simply to have a seasonal pastry cream or custard with a heady unmistakable smell.

One of the most common uses of elderflowers is also to steep them in hot water and sugar with some lemons to make a syrup, or a cordial. Use this elderflower syrup to soak a sponge cake or to make a fruit sorbet (raspberry or strawberry purée is a perfect match). The cordial can be diluted in still water, or sparkling water, for a refreshing summer drink, or even with some prosecco and tonic water to make a Hugo, a spritz-like aperitivo from Alto Adige, in the North of Italy.

Use elderflowers as quickly as possible after picking them, before they lose their charm and start developing a rather less romantic scent!

In recent years, I’ve been using elderflowers to infuse rice vinegar, inspired by Sasha Carnevali. But I’ll share more about this next month, as soon as I can get my hands on a big batch of flowers and some good-quality rice vinegar. So stay tuned for an elderflower-scented newsletter!

Other flowers

According to The Oxford Companion to Food, there are several flowers which can be dipped in light batter and fried to make delicate sweet fritters: along with elderflowers and robinia flowers, apple blossoms, wisterias and lilacs are edible, and delicious.

Borage has pretty blue edible flowers, too, with a delicate flavor, which have been used since the Renaissance time to decorate food and in salads. 

Fresh herb flowers are edible just like their leaves. Take chives, for example, whose pom-pom-like lilac blooms retain a mild oniony taste: scatter the petals over a potato salad to complement a fresh herb dressing and to add a note of color.

The same can be said for rosemary and its teeny tiny light blue flowers. They have a mild taste of rosemary, and can be sprinkled over a Parmigiano risotto, or they can be used to give an interesting botanical note to a golden pear jam. Lightly dust them with flour and fry them in hot oil, to get popcorn like treats to serve as an appetiser.

Many blossoms, like roses–the protagonists of the month of May, you’ll have to wait for this!–and jasmine, can be crystallized to decorate pastries, chocolates and cookies. They lend their flowery romantic aroma also to preserves, syrups and sorbets. 

Six recipes to cook in this month 

• Warm Spring vegetable salad with grilled pecorino cheese. This is a warm Spring vegetable salad, made with artichokes, fava beans, and asparagus, served with grilled pecorino cheese, a slice of toasted bread and a lemony citronette. 

• Spring lasagne. To make these lasagne, substitute ragù with a selection of Spring vegetables quickly sautéed with garlic and olive oil. I used asparagus, artichokes and fava beans, but feel free to use what you have at hand and what is in season in your corner of the world. Instead of bechamel sauce, which is the element binding together the traditional lasagne (it is bechamel, not ricotta, in the home-made, traditional, family-style Italian lasagne), use stracciatella.

• Asparagus and ricotta tortelli. Fresh and zesty, this is a spring pasta dish that I prepared often during the asparagus season. Use the stems to make a delicate filling for the fresh pasta parcels along with ricotta, lemon zest, basil, and grated Parmigiano Reggiano; reserve the tips for quickly blanching them and tossing in the brown butter to dress the tortelli.

• Bow-tie fresh green and yellow fresh pasta with peas, prosciutto, and cream. To officially welcome Spring in the kitchen, I opt for a symbolic pasta, cute bow-tie fresh pasta, that we call farfalle, butterflies, in Italian. They might look daunting, but they just require some patience. It's a bit tricky at first, but after a few trials, you’ll get the hang of it. Plus, don’t miss the dressing, with a delicious ‘80s vibe.

• Beef, sausage, and asparagus meatballs. There’s more than meat when it comes to making soft meatballs. Either you’re making them with beef, pork, chicken or turkey, it is the additional ingredients that will give moisture, texture and flavour. This is my Spring version of soft, juicy meatballs. Asparagus and mint give a fresh, green taste to the meatballs.

• Strawberry jam. My strawberries came from Basilicata, a tiny region between Naples and Apulia, the region where my nonno was born. They produce excellent strawberries, an early variety known as Candonga, that gives juicy, crisp fruits from January to June.