By avoiding the famous hotspots and travelling in December, we enjoy culinary delights and historic charms without the summer crowds
T
he copper pot is filled with a custard so golden it looks like liquid sunshine. Our waiter carefully ladles the sugary, egg-yolk elixir, zabaglione, into two bowls for dunking warm pansarole doughnuts. Our conversation stops, a silent competition to nab the last one. We are literally living la dolce vita.
This dessert is a tradition in Apricale, a fairytale-like village in Liguria, Italy’s crescent-shaped region that hugs the Mediterranean. It’s a far cry from crowded Cinque Terre and posh Portofino to the east. This western edge, on France’s south-eastern border, feels more authentic and calmer in the winter, with more local people than tourists. Unburdened from competing with others for reservations, you are free to live in the present. Let spontaneity be your guide – or, in my family’s case, our appetites.
I came to Liguria with my twin, her husband, and their 11- and 14-year-old kids, inspired by my sister’s studies in Italy and our shared passion for the country’s comforting, kid-friendly cuisine. Our road trip meandered from the coastal Riviera dei Fiori to a constellation of medieval hilltop villages. In just 30 sq miles, we journeyed back in time.
