When I left the house last night, fog was resting like a blanket of silk, low in the hills, and I stopped for a minute on my way to the car to take in the vastness of the sky. We had made roasted eggplant with a barely cooked tomato sauce, layered with mozzarella di buffala, fresh basil and parmesan. We went to searing off whole birds in the pan, and then stuffing them with rosemary, sage, garlic and thyme, and finishing them off in the oven, basting every ten minutes with cool water and pan juices. We had mushroom risotto, slowly stirring with all the love in our beating hearts, and chocolate truffle cake for dessert.

My group is having coffee and pastries at Bar Centrale this morning. I am waiting for them here on the computer. From here I will give them to Pino who lead them over winding roads towards Montelpuliano and great glasses of Brunello.