Some journeys are planned around places.
Others reveal themselves through flavour.
Torino began as a weekend away and slowly became a collection of encounters: a glass of bicerin beneath old mirrors, biscuits chosen from counters that have watched the city change, conversations shared with cooks and strangers, and an unexpected trail leading from the streets of Torino towards Barolo and a chestnut grove in the Piemonte countryside.
I returned home with more than a list of places. I brought back tastes, stories and the quiet beginnings of ideas that had not existed before I left.
Torino, One Taste at a Time
Torino seems to understand that certain pleasures should never be hurried. Its cafés still hold the elegance of another century: dark wood, marble tables, silver spoons and rooms in which time appears to move a little more slowly.
Founded in 1763, Caffè Al Bicerin is one of those rare places where history does not feel displayed, but quietly lived. Candlelight, period furnishings and the intimate proportions of the room preserve the atmosphere of a café that has watched generations of Torino pass through its doors.
Here, the city arrived in a glass. Coffee, chocolate and cream remained in distinct layers, each one waiting to be discovered — although tradition suggests resisting the temptation to stir. Beside it came an assortment of biscuits, each with its own shape, texture and quiet connection to Piemonte.
It was more than an afternoon break. It felt like tasting a small piece of the city’s memory.
Some cities are remembered by their monuments. Torino lingers in the rituals it refuses to rush.
“Some cities are remembered by their monuments. Turin lingers in the rituals it refuses to rush.”
Beyond the City, the Table Continues
The journey continued beyond Torino, where the streets slowly gave way to hills, tiled roofs and the softer rhythm of the Piemonte countryside.
In Sciolze, Locanda delle Marionette offered the kind of hospitality that cannot be rehearsed. Its owner and chef, Davide, moves between the kitchen and his guests with the ease of someone who understands that welcoming people is part of the meal. His cooking begins with the territory, then carries it somewhere more personal — thoughtful, generous and never predictable.
Between one course and the next, conversation turned naturally towards ingredients, places and possibilities. It was a reminder that food does more than bring people to the same table. Sometimes, it allows ideas to find one another.
And then came dessert: bonet, dark with cocoa and amaretti, carrying the unmistakable character of Piemonte in every spoonful.
What a Weekend Can Begin
Later, in Barolo, another conversation opened an unexpected door.
I met Elena, who told me about a chestnut grove in the Piemonte countryside — a place with rooms for staying, space for gathering and courses already taking shape around the landscape. We spoke about food, teaching and the pleasure of creating something together. Nothing was planned, and perhaps that was precisely why the ideas arrived so freely.
A simple weekend away had become something else: a trail of flavours, generous encounters and possibilities beginning to take root.
This is what I love most about travelling through food. You leave in search of something to taste and return carrying a story you could never have planned.
