Our Guest today: Nico Tortorella (and yes we know he's American, but we're cooking for his Italian ancestors)
Inviting the gorgeous Nico Tortorella and his Italian ancestors to our lunch would be easy to write about, so I thought. It was indeed a spectacular setting, and the lunch that went on for hours was like sitting in an old Italian village with people you love. Food, wine, music, deep thought, frivolous giggles and more food kept on rolling in. But to write about Nico and our conversation was hard. Mostly I think because I don't belong to Nico's world. I understand it, and love it, and will stand up for anyone who needs me, but it's not my battle. And so I tried writing about it humbly, over here: Nico Tortorella with his Italian blood and our South African landscape The Threshold So, we all arrived on The Farm. The one that belong to our dear friends Catherine and Herman. (They had emigrated to the UK, but had left their little farm in South-Africa behind, like an orphan or a gemstone.) I’ve refused to go back there. Without Catherine who always put stronke in the old Ag