October Check-in

What was it like to dust off my passport? It was brilliant! From the moment I hit Delta and ran for my ritual martini I was off and flying. My mood lifted. I sprinted like a kid down the runway to the gate. And then I landed in Milan. Took a train to Parma where my travel buddy and barkeep of Tabarro, Diego Sorba picked me up. In an hour we were at his wife’s 94-year-old grandmother’s yard and Sunday lunch for 18 or so. Cinghiale and polenta for them. Polenta and leaves of lettuce for me. Reinforced and sustained, I saw some raw talent and gave his daughter and her best friend their first Morris dance class. Brilliant girls. Me and my two sweethearts. That night I jetlagged outside of Tabarro while Diego played host, putting me in the vicinity of some of his regulars. There was one fiery Romanian, one energetic heart doctor, an eccentric doctor-turned-antique peddler, and an enthusiastic x-ray technician on the eve of starting sommelier training. Soon we were at one table, drinking. Lo

by Alice Feiring · source ↗