Summer Memories from Salento

Caffè in ghiaccio and my recent market haul

Happy weekend! While we are finally busy celebrating Livia’s fourth birthday (in a completely different weather from what we expected, as Fall has crept on us a couple of weeks in advance, not that I complain), here’s the newsletter about Salento I was planning to share on Wednesday.

If you missed the latest newsletter, it was a collection of reflections, born from a conversation I had with Tommaso, that surfaced as we drove back home along the Adriatic motorway. It’s a stunning road that also forces you to confront what lies behind the picturesque tourist towns perched on a hill or facing the sea. It was about the real, raw Italy, how disconnect it often is from a Social Media storytelling, and all the questions that this fracture brings.

Summer memories from Salento

During most of the year, I’m an advocate of breakfast at home. I can toast my home-baked sourdough bread until slightly charred on the edges, wait until it is just barely warm, then top it with what I fancy the most that day: almond butter and jam, scrambled eggs, smoked salmon, and cucumbers. Along with my toast, I take a steaming cup of tea in winter, or a sip of espresso—or barley coffee—with oat milk during the summer. It’s my breakfast, my rules, my time.

So for me, breakfast at a café immediately feels like a holiday. Even more so if, from my table perched on the sidewalk, I can watch the port life of a Mediterranean town unfurl in front of my eyes.