A Reset, Not a Detox

Balance, comfort, and quiet indulgence 

The difference in January is not what we drink or eat, but how we do it. Slower, with intention, without excess. 

I grew up in Verona, where after the holidays the kitchen did not suddenly change direction, nothing was cancelled or stripped back. The pace simply softened, cooking became quieter, shopping more deliberate, and the cupboard slowly refilled with the things that make everyday meals feel grounded again.

That instinct stayed with me when I moved to the UK. I now live in a Victorian house with a proper larder, and in January it comes into its own. It is where I reset how I cook, not by removing things, but by choosing them more carefully.

- pic from shelves at Mercato - 

The Larder, Refilled 

For me, the reset always begins in the larder, not on the plate. After Christmas, I restock with ingredients I know will earn their place. Tomatoes that can become soup, sauce, or the base of something slower later in the week, and smaller tomatoes for days when I want something fresher and quicker. Olive oil lives within reach because it touches almost everything I cook. There are jars and tins that do quiet work. Capers bring salt and brightness when winter food risks becoming too soft. Pulses are stacked neatly, ready cooked and ready when time is short. Warmed gently, dressed simply, finished with olive oil and herbs, they become proper meals rather than something assembled. 

From Sweet to Savoury

After December, sweetness naturally steps back. This is when polenta returns to the table in a serious way. Slow cooked, stirred patiently, finished with butter or cheese, and served with vegetables, mushrooms, or sometimes nothing more than a spoon and a quiet evening. It suits British winters as easily as Italian ones.

A Measured Indulgence

Balance does not mean abstinence. There is still space for a glass of Valpolicella Ripasso with polenta or a simple cheese supper. 

Buon Anno Nuovo 

Ilaria x