The first I heard of it, it was February 2023, nearly a year after my “infraction” had occurred.
Back in March 2022, while traveling back to Linate airport in Milan for my return to the U.S., I was clocked going 118 km/hr in a 110 km/hr zone. That means I was going 73 miles per hour in a 68 mph zone. Eight kilometers or roughly five miles over the speed limit. Five miles over the limit, people!
The routine for Italian traffic citations is not entirely new to me. The last time I got one was because I had entered a ZTL or limited traffic zone area. (The previous time I had visited the town where I teach each year, the area wasn’t off limits to non-residential traffic. Returning to the university after the Covid closures, I just assumed it was allowed there. I tried to pay that ticket in Italy but that backfired. The story here.)
First you get a notice from your rental car agency. It includes the ticket info but it doesn’t allow you to pay it. It does inform you that if you don’t pay within a certain time period, you’ll owe even more money.
By the time the actual ticket arrives, it’s already way past the payment window. Oy.
I received my rental agency notice in February. I tried to have a friend pay it from his bank account in Italy but the authorities said you can’t make the payment until the final ticket arrives.
Arrive it did, a few weeks ago.
I immediately went online and used my bank account to do an international wire transfer. But after a few days, a message from my bank arrived telling me that the wire had been rejected on the Italian side because the format of the bank account was “incorrect.”
I check too make sure that I had used the right number. I had. But when I reviewed all the paperwork, I noticed that the ticket reference code in the English version of the letter was different from the one in the Italian version. I had used the one in the Italian version.
Luckily, the bank refunded my money, including the wire transfer fee of $5.
Yesterday, I sent another wire, this time using the code in the English version of the letter.
To be continued…
Man, what a trip it was to roll up to my friend’s new bar on the Sunset Strip in LA! 
What’s on this pizza? I’m not sure I even know.
Take, for example, the photo immediately above.
Now look at this pizza (immediately above). It’s a “napoli” but the ingredients have been added only after (notice how they aren’t incorporated into the mozzarella and they). The mozzarella was also added after it was fired.
Notice how the prosciutto cotto (literally, cooked ham) was added only after the pie had been cooked through.
Traveling across small-town country in the U.S. is always a reminder that an overwhelming number of Americans care little about fine wine.
But we did find a compelling if modest wine program at
That’s me, left, with my buddy, the legendary sports and wine writer for the Houston Chronicle, Dale Robertson, tasting at Marchesi di Gresy in Barbaresco last month.
It took me a minute to make sure the wine was available in California since it only newly arrived there.
According to
In the wake of Eric Asimov’s article on vermouth for the Times last week,
Above: vitello tonnato at the famous Osteria Boccondivino in Bra, Piedmont, where the Slow Food movement was founded in 1986. The town is also home to Slow Food U.
Above: homemade vitello tonnato at the home of my good friend and client Michele Marsiaj, owner of the Amistà winery in Nizza Monferrato.
Above: old school vitello tonnato at the classic Antico Ristorante Porto di Savona, a crusty but must-experience culinary gem in Turin.
One of the most exciting things about my professional life this year has been the opportunity to interact with Luca D’Attoma, one of Italy’s genuine “rock star” winemakers.
Next we tasted Luca’s personal project, Duemani, the Tuscan coastal estate he and his business partner 