It was a mere -6C in Paris when I left day before yesterday. Commuter trains packed. Everyone but me coughing, hacking, sick–and incapable of keeping their germs to themselves. Such generosity! So unlike the French!! To Milan, where the trees near the airport were encased in ice: a mere -8C!! and then by train, through mountains and out of tunnels into the light… the sun of the Mediterranean? No! Sea and snow–no sun. As I write it’s -5C in the vicinity of Genoa. The snow is ankle-deep, the wind bending the umbrella pines like inside-out umbrellas. This local Genoa weather site is slightly optimistic. Will Santa be able to negotiate the slushy streets? Happily, the focaccia is as delicious as ever, and the pesto too. I did the unthinkable and applied the pungent green sauce to pansoti–pasta purses stuffed with field greens and Parmigiano. The locals cringe: pansoti are to be eaten only with walnut sauce! That’s a lot of nutty nonsense.
Food Wine Italian Riviera & Genoa is in many bookstores here. And it appears that another writer has come up with a rival to Food Wine Rome. The free market of books!
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