News from Elizabeth : March 2026
Spaghetti al Pomodoro, An Evening in Florence & Tours
Last week I was doing what I absolutely should not have been doing — mindlessly scrolling Instagram — when I came across a couple I don’t even follow standing proudly behind an entire wheel of Parmigiano. A whole wheel. The kind that weighs more than a toddler and has been aging patiently for two years.
I thought, Oh, that’s interesting.
Then he pulled out a saw.
Now, if you know anything about Italians and Parmigiano, you know that a saw is already a red flag. This is not lumber. This is cheese. Cheese that is meant to be gently coaxed open with special almond-shaped knives, not something from the hardware store. Eventually they did pull out the proper knives — the saw, it turns out, was just a prop.
Once it was cut in half, they scooped out the center and made pasta inside the hollow. It was theatrical. It was dramatic. It was very Instagram. And it looked delicious (even though I still think this method is a very gimmicky even in Italy), so points for that.
During all of this, all I could think was: Who is going to eat the rest of that wheel?
Because in Italy, nobody buys a whole wheel unless they are a restaurant, a cheese shop, or planning to feed a village. The rest of us buy a chunk. A sensible chunk. One that fits in the fridge and doesn’t require power tools.
I forgot about it until ten days later when a follow up post reappeared. She pulled the wheel out of the fridge triumphantly — wrapped tightly in plastic.
I actually gasped.
Of course it was covered in mold. Cheese + plastic + time = science experiment.
The video then turned into a cheerful “how to save your giant wheel of cheese” tutorial. She cut away large sections, washed it with vinegar, and declared the rest salvageable. Very practical. Very upbeat. Meanwhile, I was mourning the fallen soldiers - perfectly good Parmigiano that had to be sacrificed for a viral moment.
In a moment of weakness (and clearly too much espresso), I commented that it made me sad to see food wasted.
Two hundred sixteen responses to my comment later, I realized I had accidentally wandered into a cultural minefield. People were furious with me.
And that’s when it hit me: this wasn’t really about cheese. It was about perspective.
In some places, if you buy the wheel, it’s your wheel. Saw it, hollow it, wrap it in plastic, film it, trim half of it away — you paid for it. You get to decide how to use it. There’s a certain boldness in that freedom. A playfulness. A sense that abundance makes experimentation harmless.
In other places, food carries a different emotional weight. Because Parmigiano isn’t just “expensive cheese.” It’s expensive for a reason. It represents years of work — early mornings in the dairy, careful hands turning curds, months and months of aging, constant monitoring, patience, skill, tradition. Every wheel reflects farmers, cheesemakers, affineurs. Time. Labor. Knowledge passed down.
That respect for the work behind the food is something we try to share during our tours. When you stand inside a caseificio and watch a wheel being lifted from the copper vat, you understand very quickly why it costs what it costs. You see the effort. You feel the time in it.
So when I said it made me sad to see cheese wasted, it wasn’t moral outrage. It was that awareness. It was thinking about the hands that made it.
It’s a basic cultural difference that can happen when people grow far removed from where their food actually comes from. When food becomes just a product — something wrapped in plastic on a shelf — it’s easy to forget the story behind it. Yet it’s precisely that story which we should be focussing on.
WHAT’S NEW
Sophie and I attended the annual food fair Taste last month. In the past, I used to come home with a suitcase full of new producers and discoveries. These days, it’s become a little less about discovering new products and more about connecting with people — but in the very best (and most delicious) way.
We caught up with old friends and finally met so many people we had previously only known virtually. And it’s in those real, face-to-face conversations that the inspiration really happens. For instance we left Florence more certain than ever that we want to organize a tour to Campania. Naples and the sea will absolutely be part of it — beyond that, it’s still taking shape. Which is the fun part. We’re already planning scouting trips over the next few months. Mozzarella di bufala tasting, anyone?
We also took a very quick trip to Piedmont to put the final touches on our new tour there. Highlights included milking a goat, tasting grappa straight from the barrel, and eating our weight in chocolate-covered cherries. I’m happy to report that the details are officially ironed out, and we’ll be announcing the tour (scheduled for 2027) within the next two months. It will likely sell out quickly, so make sure you’re signed up for the paid version of this newsletter to be the first to hear about it.
After a three-month break, Sophie and I are heading back out on the road to host tours — and I, for one, can’t wait. I’m off to Florence and then Eastern Sicily. Sophie is spending back-to-back weeks in Puglia. We also have tours led by our wonderful guest hosts: Jenny Rosenstrach will be in Parma with her group; Shauna Niequist is exploring Western Sicily; and Meryl Feinstein will be eating her way around Eastern Sicily.
We’ve started rolling out our 2027 schedule, with Florence announced — and sold out! — last month. More tours to Puglia and Sicily will be announced in the coming weeks, so stay tuned.
This is usually the part of the newsletter where I encourage you to grab one of the final spots on an upcoming tour. The reality is that there are very few spots left anywhere. The best advice I can give is to sign up for the waitlist wherever it’s available — you truly never know. And if you’d like the best chance at joining us, make sure you’re subscribed to the paid version of this newsletter so you can jump in as soon as new tours are announced.
WHAT I’M READING
Loved this piece about doing more with less, when it comes to clothes.
Fantastic article about the state of Italian cooking
I just finished Heart the Lover by Lily King (I’m pretty sure it was Jenny Rosenstrach who recommended it — she’s truly fantastic when it comes to book suggestions). It’s about the lasting impact of first love, and it’s beautifully written. What I appreciated most were the characters. I felt I had very little in common with them, and yet they were so vivid and compelling that I was completely drawn in. That, to me, is always the sign of a great novel. I enjoyed it so much that I immediately picked up another of her books, Writers & Lovers, and I’m loving that one too.
If you’re in New York and looking for great day trips to Westchester and beyond, my sister Robin has you covered. She’s always discovering thoughtful, seasonal things to do — the kind of outings that make you feel like you’ve truly escaped the city for a bit. Make sure you’re subscribed to her newsletter to stay up to date on what’s happening from season to season.
WHERE I’VE BEEN
I took a quick trip to Florence — just one night — at the invitation of a new restaurant, Akira Back. I don’t usually accept these kinds of invitations, but this one had two things going for it: it’s not your typical Tuscan restaurant, and it included a stay at the newly opened W Hotel, which I’d been curious to try.
The Hotel: The W Florence
I have to admit I’d never stayed at a W before. It’s very sleek and modern, with a polished, international feel. If that’s your style, it’s an excellent choice. It’s also incredibly convenient if you’re arriving by train — literally across the street from the station.
It doesn’t lean heavily into traditional Florentine decor, but that felt intentional rather than lacking. It offers something different. I loved the rooftop bar (sadly closed on the rainy winter day I was there), and I’d happily go back for an aperitivo with a view. The breakfast buffet was honestly extraordinary — and I especially appreciated the generous selection of vegetables, which isn’t always a given.
The Restaurant: Akira Back
I went with my friend Rolando, and we both really enjoyed the creative mix of Korean and Japanese flavors with American and Italian influences. On paper it might sound like a lot, but it worked. The dishes were playful, well-balanced, and genuinely delicious.
In the warmer months, they pair cocktails with some of their specialties on the courtyard terrace, which sounds like a great excuse to return. The space itself has a strong personality — stylish, energetic, and clearly embraced by the local crowd. It was full the night we were there, and the atmosphere was lively, thanks in part to a live DJ. I’ll mention that only because if you prefer a quieter dinner, it’s helpful to know — but if you’re in the mood for a fun, high-energy evening, it definitely delivers.
All in all, it was an delicious change of pace — a different side of Florence for one night.
WHAT I’M EATING
On Sundays, when I’m home making lunch and the girls come over, it’s almost always pasta. And at least half the time, it’s Spaghetti al Pomodoro.
What it lacks in the fancy department, it more than makes up for in comfort. We all love it, and it has a few things going for it:
It’s easy.
Everyone loves it.
It’s actually not that heavy, despite its full comfort-food reputation.
What I’ve realized recently is that even though I make it constantly, I’ve never actually published the recipe. Probably because it’s almost embarrassing how simple it is. It’s not even as involved as the viral Marcella version with butter and onion. This one has just four ingredients:
Canned tomato purée
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt
Spaghetti
That’s it.
But as always, when there are so few ingredients, quality matters. I pick up my tomato purée at the farmers’ market, but a solid, easy-to-find brand is Mutti. If you want to take it up a few notches, look for a small-batch, well-sourced passata. It makes a difference.
And the pasta should be spaghetti — because that’s just the way it is. Buy the best brand you can find or afford. Faella is our pasta of choice, and you can tell the difference in the texture and taste.
Here’s my recipe. I hope you make it this Sunday for lunch. Or sooner, if you can’t wait. Let me know if you do.
AND FINALLY….
On a personal note I know you all have been following Sophie’s progress with her new apartment! Even I can’t wait for the next episode! Will she ever get a couch? What color sheets did she decide to get?
At the same time I’ve started on my own construction project. After 35 years we are redoing the kitchen up in Umbria. You can follow along on Instagram where I’ve been sharing regular updates. The photo above is simply to remind you that my life is not all perfectly arranged flowers and martinis. (although it may mean result in more martinis)
So here is my question to you: Would you us both to follow up with specific resources of the materials we used and the choices we made? It’s not really the mandate of this newsletter, which is more travel/food focussed. But it does give an insight into both Italian culture and the artisans we love.
Now off to meet Emma to choose fabric for the new couch. Wish me luck!
x,Elizabeth
Such a welcome respite reading your newsletter with the world coming apart.
Thank you again for helping us keep our sanity and equilibrium.
Thank you for the Parmigiano story. Yes. Those vats and the cheesemakers who tend them for years. How can people celebrate artisan created food and have no idea what that actually means?