Maybe it was fall’s cinematic sunlight or the giddiness of waking up in Paris, but this was pain au chocolat perfection. A first bite left my lips slippery with melted butter and glossed with warm, bittersweet chocolate. No one was looking, so I allowed myself to lick my equally slicked and stained fingertips. Why thank you, but no, I don’t need a napkin! It was impossibly flaky—so much so that at least one third of it wound up wasted on the sidewalk.

A women I once met told me she thought cheese should be its own food group. I believe the French have already declared it so.

A candy shop in Île Saint-Louis. The Parisian version of me lives on that lovely island and comes into this shop to bathe in its sunset-gold light. The shopkeepers always hand me a cookie to nibble on while I fill a rustling paper bag with sweets. And as I pay, they offer me a chocolate-covered candied orange peel.

These cellophane-wrapped nougat squares reminded me of swanky marble tiles. Only better, because you can eat them. Hansel and Gretel’s evil witch must have had exactly these in her little house.

Lunchtime in Paris. A woman peruses the menu, carefully, and with much thought. I like the beginnings of her smile. She must have read a menu item that made her mouth curve pleasantly upwards.

I’m not well-versed in the art of eating alone, but found that I was a quick study, a prodigy even, given the proper location. Pictured here, boudin blanc at Le Comptoir.

Red is my favorite color.

It was quite sunny, but my friend Pauline and I drew the blue velvet shades and pretended it was dreary so we could have a proper breakfast in bed.

The trip was sudden. My father called from Rome to say a friend, Aída, was planning a dinner to draw attention, and hopefully, investments, in Nicaragua. The dinner would take place at Ca’ del Bosco, a winery in the Franciacorta region of Lombardy. The chef planning the dinner was Michelin-starred  Vittorio Fusari, currently  owner of Dispensa Pani e Vini, a lovely, modern restaurant with glass-walled kitchen, where local, and often, neglected, ingredients are showcased. Aída asked if I would plan the menu with Vittorio—I balked, to say the least. “I’m not a chef,” I explained, but, she pressed and coaxed, and, a day or two later, I was packing my bags.

Padenghe  sul Garda, about a 2-hour drive from the Milan airports, is breathtaking. Lake Garda is encircled by the picturesque town, complete with terracotta-hued lakeside villas and cafés, bobbing sailboats, and snowcapped mountains in the distance. I could see the gently rolling waves from my bedroom, where I found a personalized chef’s jacket laid out on the bed.

The glint of  chef Vittorio’s Michelin stars kept me up that night. In the morning, I was driven to Torino, where Salone del Gusto was taking place. Vittorio, with an abundant mane of silver hair and matching beard, met me at the gates of Salone. We talked about traditional foods of Nicaragua, and within a few minutes, had outlined a  menu that would combine Italian and Nicaraguan ingredients and methods of preparation. Then, it was on to a tour of Salone—I must have eaten at least 5 kilos worth of regional cheeses, prosciuttos, breads, olives, and more cheeses. It was a dream version of a street fair. I love a street fair.

The day of the dinner, I went to Dispensa, with my father’s housekeeper, doña María del Carmen, in tow.  Chef Vittorio wanted to serve tortillas at the dinner, and doña María del Carmen came, mercifully, to help—about 200 tortillas needed to be shaped and cooked right before the dinner. At the restaurant, I was very graciously absorbed into the staff—all boys—and helped prep for the dinner. Halfway through the day, Vittorio sat me down for an incredible lunch. I’m not a food critic, but I can say that every bite tasted of the changing foliage, the earthy breeze, and the surrounding vineyards.

Later that afternoon we moved the operation to the Ca’ del Bosco kitchens and started readying for service. Among the appetizers were beef tartare polpettini dusted with pinol, a blend of ground toasted corn kernels, cacao, and spices normally used as a beverage base or as a coating for fried fish.  A first course of risotto with black beans paid homage to Nicaragua’s gallopinto while seared filet of beef was served with a delicately spiced cream sauce that also had pinol. It was inspiring to see how our humble pinol can be made to sing (expect to see a version of the recipe here soon). The hectic pace of plating course after course for 100+ guests was nerve-wracking, but I think I slipped into the groove easily and…dare I say it? Did I experience a tinge of nostalgia? Did I suddenly want to be a line cook?

In all, the visit was dreamy. My gracious hostess Aída plied me with local fare and fabulous sparkling wine, chef Vittorio and his staff welcomed me into his kitchen, and the Ca’ del Bosco folks Ivo and Alfonso let me roam around the vineyard and winery. Grazie mille a tutti!