On the Joy of Missing Out at Christmas

Winter comforts: recipes, books, and some thoughts on wintering, rest and renewal.

This is the third newsletter for this week, but it will be also our last newsletter for 2024.

As the year comes to a close, we’re taking a short break from the newsletter to rest, read, and spend time with family and friends while celebrating a cozy, intimate Christmas. We’ll slow down to refill our creative well and return on January 8th, ready for a new, exciting year of stories, recipes, and shared moments around good food.

This is one of those newsletters I wanted to craft by hand, starting in my notebook of ideas and drafts with my favorite pen, one studded with purple velvet hearts. Like to imagine you reading these words while sipping a hot herbal tea from your favorite festive mug, wrapped in comfy pants and a warm blanket.

Read on to find my reflections on JOMO and wintering, cozy seasonal recipes, and a festive Yule Log video recipe to inspire your holiday baking.

From Tommaso and me, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! 🎄✨

In the midst of an inbox brimming with holiday gift guides, collection of seasonal recipes, company greetings, and—hopefully not—last-minute work requests, I hope this message feels like a quiet pause in the holiday rush. In these busy days, when countless notifications and to-dos vie for your attention, I want to tell you about the Joy of Missing Out.

JOMO, the opposite of FOMO—the Fear of Missing Out—is something I’m still learning to embrace. It’s about choosing absence intentionally, savoring moments of stillness without guilt. This is my hope—and my project—for the upcoming holidays: plan less, do less, save energy. Spend time with the people who matter most, and celebrate the small joys of these winter days—the scent of freshly baked almond ricciarelli, or morning cuddles with Livia and the dogs, lingering in the warmth of bed when there’s no rush to get up.

It means recognizing that Christmas can be celebrated with a simple, low-key family lunch—because what truly matters is the time spent together, not just a lavish meal. It means baking all the cookies your heart desires—or just a small tray to satisfy a sweet craving. It means filling your calendar with dinners and aperitivi with friends—or reclaiming your time and spending a quiet evening in your pajamas, watching The Holiday for the hundredth time.

I feel I’ve reached a point in life where I want—and I need—to resist the comparison trap, the endless online push to buy, eat, cook, spend, and show more—too much, far more than necessary. I crave real life, unfiltered, raw, genuine. The cold air tingling my cheeks during a morning walk, choosing root vegetables still encrusted with muddy soil at the market, leafing through a book while waiting in line at the post office, starting the day with a steaming cup of coffee and oat milk while toasting my daughter’s chocolate milk.

Though much of our work happens online, I’m determined to protect that space and keep my mind clear by choosing when and where to be present, what to read, who to follow. Here, this feels like a safe harbor, a place where I can share my thoughts, hopes, and struggles with like-minded people. With real people, I dare say.

Emma Gannon

’s latest newsletter, How to be less online in 2025, resonated with how I feel these days. It offered much food for thought, especially on reclaiming your time and redefining how accessible you want to be.

This morning view never ceases to amaze me

This mindset beautifully aligns with a concept I discovered last year: wintering, as described by

Katherine May

in her book Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times. First published five years ago, the book has recently made its way back into the charts—perhaps because we’re all longing for that gentle invitation to slow down.

For me, wintering meant listening to my body’s quiet plea to slow down, rest, and retreat. It felt like pressing pause from the hustle and bustle—creating space for stillness and self-care. It meant reshuffling priorities, shifting the focus inward. My days were still filled with work and family commitments, but allowing myself that pause last year helped me face a health challenge I’m still navigating: a bigger puzzle made of heartburn, fatty liver, and gallstones. It led me to remove dairy from my diet, experiment with gluten-free recipes, and embrace more plant-based foods—all in preparation for a small surgery I hope to undergo early next year to resolve my gallbladder issues.

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So how do I approach wintering?

I’m not retreating to a secluded hut surrounded by woods on the top of a snowy mountain. Wintering can happen even in the midst of everyday life, by acknowledging that our bodies mirror the rhythms of nature. Just as the countryside rests in quiet stillness, shedding old leaves while unseen roots grow deep beneath the soil, we too can pause and nurture ourselves, preparing for the bloom of spring.

These days, I either tuck myself into bed early with a book that holds my attention for just a few minutes before sleep takes over, or curl up on the sofa under my grandma’s hand-knitted wool blanket to watch a detective series. After binge-watching The Lincoln Lawyer, we’re now making our way through the seven-plus-two seasons of Bosch—and loving every minute of it.

Even with a fire roaring in the living room, my hot water bottle has become my best friend. It helps me relax and stretch my limbs, even in a cold bed—a necessity in our country house, where temperatures rarely climb above 18°C/64°F.

My life is already fairly secluded when it is not cooking class season—partly due to my natural inclination toward solitude, and partly because of circumstances like having a young daughter and working from home. For me, wintering means being intentional about how I spend my time online and learning to treasure those precious pockets of free time I mange to carve in my days.

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The winter months are my favorite time for reading—second only to the slow-paced days of summer holidays. So, I’ve gathered a stack of books to read during the holidays and throughout the quieter winter months, when cooking classes will be less frequent and, hopefully, I’ll be deep into the editing phase of cookbook #7. For me, slow time has always meant time for learning—an invitation to study, explore new techniques, and refine my craft.

Teaching cooking classes and writing recipes is an artisanal craft, shaped by practice, study, and endless trial and error. It’s a journey marked by hands-on experience, pages stained with oil splatters, burnt attempts, and countless dishes waiting to be washed. It demands a deep curiosity, a hunger for learning, testing, and sharing. Winter is my season for learning, a time to dig deeper into the craft, absorbing knowledge slowly, like roots growing beneath the soil. When Spring arrives, I’ll be ready to open up again, sharing what I’ve discovered along the way.

Some of these books are timeless classics—because you don’t always need the latest releases to stay inspired. It’s also my way of fighting FOMO and rediscovering gems already on my bookshelf, instead of constantly buying new books. I’m planning to revisit Samin Nosrat’s Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat to refresh my understanding of culinary fundamentals. For baking, I’m turning to Aran Goyoaga’s Bakes Simple, producing some great gluten-free loaves for breakfast. Next in line is

Nicola Lamb

’s Sift, a fundamental baking guide I’m excited to dive into to refine my pastry skills.

Alongside cookbooks, I picked up a couple of second-hand British detective novels set in the muddy English countryside. They’ll keep me company in bed under the duvet, with my trusty hot water bottle. Somehow, that water bottle keeps making its way back into my winter rituals—it perfectly captures the simple comfort I find myself craving this season.

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Food is obviously part of my wintering process. I’m craving simple, nourishing food, free of frills.

With Livia home from school for a couple of weeks, I’m focusing on meals with the shortest ingredient lists while gently encouraging her to try new flavors. So far, she’s loving saffron risotto, baked cauliflower florets sprinkled with breadcrumbs, and homemade fish fingers made with cod and instant polenta.

Here you can find some ideas for easy, comforting dishes, food that feels like family:

• A creamy Tuscan kale, leek and potato soup - When kitchen scraps turn into a velvety soup

• Bean and farro soup from Garfagnana - Farro has a lovely chewy texture, it’s nutty and hearty and makes a comforting, easy soup when paired with beans and some basic aromatics

• Leek and Potato Purée with Pancetta - Comfort food in a bowl

• White rice with butter, Parmigiano Reggiano, and mozzarella - This white rice with butter, Parmigiano Reggiano, and mozzarella sits right in between comfort food and a cure-all dish

• Cauliflower flan - Velvety and smooth, this flan is usually a crowd-pleaser. Even those who usually do not like cauliflower will gladly ask for a second serving

• The Italian potato frittata - Try the Italian potato frittata for a simple, fuss-free meal

• Chicken and potato meatballs - Tiny, delicate, with a simple taste, they are made with ground chicken meat, potatoes, and grated Parmigiano Reggiano

• My mum's polpettone, a rustic, unassuming Tuscan meatloaf - You can find out much about a family and their habits just by tasting their meatloaf

• A vintage torta al caffè, coffee cake - A recipe from one my grandma's cookbooks, my dad's favorite for his birthday

Even our Christmas menu will be simpler than usual, mainly due to some family issues we are still dealing with. But in the past days I took some time to prepare a joyous Tronchetto di Natale, the Italian Yule log, with coffee, ricotta, and chocolate. We made a simple video illustrating all the steps, our Christmas present for you: it is much simpler and effortless than you can expect. You can find the video and the recipe here.

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Link Love

• Read a short interview I did with Marti Buckley for the December Culinary Monograph of the Essentialist Newsletter.

• On

  The New Roman Times
  ,
  Laura Itzkowitz
  interviewed me about my work. Read it here. You’ll also find a little sneak peek of cookbook #7.

And before we go… a little news

We’ve been working behind the scenes for a little surprise. The new edition of From the Markets of Tuscany is here! Originally published in 2018, the first edition sold out, and now we’re back with a completely revised version.

While the core principles remain the same, the book now features a fresh new design, starting with a beautifully appetizing new cover. The introduction includes a guide to Tuscany’s best food markets, followed by 90 recipes organized by course — with some brand-new creations and reworked favorites for an even more inspiring culinary journey.

The book is available worldwide — you can find it on Amazon or order it from your favorite local bookstore.

I can’t wait for you to explore this new edition and bring the flavors of Tuscany into your kitchen!

As the year winds down, I’d love to hear from you.

What are your favorite winter rituals, the small comforts that make this season special for you? Do you have a go-to cozy recipe you always return to when the days are cold and dark, or a family tradition that brings warmth to your holidays?

I’d love to hear your stories—feel free to share them in the comments or reply directly to this email.

Thank you for being part of this journey. May your holidays be filled with warmth, joy, and good food shared with those who matter most.

See you in the new year!