My lovely ladies have gone, and I miss them already. It is hard to imagine that another 12 people are coming in the afternoon, and I will start from the beginning again, soaking my beans and waiting in line at Trabalza for packages of proscuitto and Finochiona. To entice my new group to the table I might slice some pears and serve them with a pecorino that I found at the market in Camucia last Thursday. There was frost on the ground last night, but it is no threat to us. The fireplace reaches from the floor to the ceiling, and there is plenty of Vin Santo to warm us from the inside out.
Eleven women and one man. In boca all’lupo.