What's on My Mind this Month

Welcome back to my monthly pile of things.

These are the ideas, recipes, books, trips, and rabbit holes currently cluttering up my desk.

Slovenia still hasn’t let me go

Usually, a trip ends when I unpack my suitcase.

Slovenia apparently didn’t get the memo.

I’ve already written about slaughter turnips, about how Ljubljana changed how I think about making choices to reflect priorities, and about putting our rental car on a train just because it sounded delightfully wacky. But I’m still turning that country over in my mind.

I think it’s because of how Slovenia surprised me.

Before going, it occupied a vague corner of my mental map labeled former Yugoslavia. I knew embarrassingly little about it. But there’s a thrill to an abyss in understanding I never fathomed until I hit middle age. And it turns out, I know shockingly little about Yugoslavia.

Based on my experience in Slovenia, I’m curious if other countries currently occupying a vague corner of my mental map, perhaps pressed behind an old Iron Curtain, could share Slovenia’s resonance. Maybe there’s something in that feeling of shaking off shackles, coming into the light, deciding with intention what in the wider world is worth adopting.

I suspect the other part of the magic of this trip is that we rode the edge of a country figuring out how to welcome visitors before the galloping hordes arrive and change the way that welcome mat gets rolled out. Everywhere we went in Slovenia, I heard that tourism is just picking up. Americans are onto the wildflowers and bees and slaughter turnips. This makes me curious about journeying to places where I only know one other person who has been there, like I did with Slovenia. That may be the sweet spot.

Putting together my interest in Yugoslavia and in wanting to go to places I’ve barely heard of…what do you know about Montenegro? How about North Macedonia? That’s a country that has always made me chuckle, but mostly because macedonia is the Italian word for fruit salad.

Grapevine Reserve is finally happening

We did it.

There are now enough paid subscribers that we’re—fingers crossed—launching our first Grapevine Reserve roundtable in September.

Now I just have to solve the tiny logistical challenge of finding a Zoom time that works for North America, Europe, and Australia.

Paid subscribers—keep an eye out for a poll. I’d love your thoughts not only on timing but on how we begin.

Should our first gathering be:

• Ask Me Anything?

• A book discussion?

• Show-and-tell of objects we’ve brought home from our travels?

• Cookbook swap?

I’m ridiculously excited about this.

Porchetta has become my whole personality

Our son and his girlfriend are getting married! Which means it’s time for a spritz party, obviously.

Usually that means inviting whoever happened to text me that week and making arancini, slab pie with mortadella and fontina, homemade focaccia, vegetables dipped in tonnato, and enough Aperol to tint the evening orange.

This time we’re actually making...a guest list.

Also, I’m planning a his spritz, her spritz, and their spritz—the last inspired by our trip to Japan. We’re calling it a Sakura Spritz and it includes shiso vermouth made by steeping shiso from our garden (the only thing that grew in this hot and dry Virginia summer) in dry vermouth.

But the centerpiece?

Porchetta.

You see, I’ve become mildly obsessed.

Years of seeing signs reading Oggi Porchetta around Umbria trained me to make immediate U-turns. Now I’m attempting to make my one with rolled pork belly (rather than a whole pig), dried uncovered in the refrigerator for two days to encourage that glorious crackling skin, and roasted the afternoon of the party.

My dream is to wheel it out halfway through the evening and build sandwiches with my homemade giardiniera while everyone pretends to stand around talking, but really sneaking bites off the board.

If this trial run succeeds, I’ll report back.

Speaking of porchetta...

One of the central characters in my Murder in an Italian Village series runs a porchetta truck. Which means the amount of daylight between the world I inhabit and the world I create is getting vanishingly small.

Maybe I need an amulet against the evil eye?!?

In any case, Unearthed in Aramezzo sailed through its developmental edit, and the book is on track for its late September release—perfect timing for a mystery set among truffle hunters.

I can’t wait to finally share it with you.

Reading with a View

In October I’ll be welcoming another Book Club with a View group to Tuscany and Umbria.

Meeting everyone over Zoom a couple of weeks ago made the whole trip feel real.

We’re gathering again in September to discuss A Room with a View in advance of our trip, and I’m remembering why I fell in love with E.M. Forster in the first place. How can someone tie together the geopolitical with the nuance of the human condition? E.M. Forster is a beast.

The full reading list is almost finalized, and I’ll share it once it’s official, so you can read along with us.

The Slovenian dessert that has completely taken over my kitchen

Just when you thought I was done gushing about Slovenia, I need to tell you about this dessert I’ve been making on repeat since coming home.

Vanilla ice cream. Roasted pumpkin seed oil. Pumpkin seeds. Black salt.

That’s it.

Our food guide in Ljubljana suggested it, and I was skeptical right up until the first bite.

The pumpkin seed oil looks almost black in the bottle but turns deep emerald as it loops across the ice cream.

It’s unlike anything I’ve tasted before.

I’m rationing my bottle because I have no idea where to find another one, which means I still haven’t had the courage to drizzle it over roasted vegetables.

One obsession at a time, right?

See you next month around the table,

Michelle

P.S: If you’ve ever wondered how I seem to stumble on transformational travel moments like car trains and discovering pumpkin seed oil, The Traveler’s Guidebook is my attempt to answer that question. It’s my thank-you gift to paid subscribers, a way to teach a more intentional, vibrant, meaningful way to move through the world.

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