Valentine’s Day, Tuscany, and the Taste of Love
Valentine’s Day may be a global celebration now, but its roots are deeply Italian. St. Valentine himself was a Roman bishop from Terni, in Umbria — a region just east of Tuscany — who defied imperial orders by secretly marrying couples, believing love was worth the risk. That quiet rebellion, that insistence on tenderness in the face of power, feels very Tuscan. Tuscany doesn’t shout its love stories. It simmers them. In ribollita stirred slowly over hours. In the way pecorino and honey make a meal feel like a poem. In the way a shared glass of Chianti can turn strangers into family. On Valentine’s Day, Italian kitchens become chapels of affection. Not flashy, not performative — just deeply felt. A bowl of pappardelle al cinghiale is a love letter written in sauce. A slice of panforte is a memory passed down. Even the act of cooking together — kneading dough, tasting sauce, setting the table — becomes a ritual of connection. And if you want to stretch the metaphor: St. Val...
