Since it is our last day in Italy before I head back to Paris and James goes to London, Frank Sr. wants to make pizza. In his basement, he had a stone oven built especially for this task. Made of stone, concrete and sand, it looks like something you’d expect in kitchens hundreds of years ago.

Frank Sr. begins the process by lighting a fire made from walnut wood and dry grapevines at 8:00 AM. The oven takes all day to heat up, so he stoaks the fire every 15 minutes to maintain the heat. He then heads for town, ducking in the butcher for sausage, the vegetable store for red and yellow peppers, and the open air market for fruit and broccolini.

After his errands are complete, he starts the dough. The ingredients are quite simple – water, yeast, flour, salt, olive oil and semolina. He uses no measuring cups knowing when the dough has reached the right consistency and flavor. He lets it rise into beautifully formed balls that give off a lovely yeasty olive oil aroma.

But before he goes any further, we must eat lunch. Uncle Gino arrives to lend Frank Sr. a hand with the pizza. He prepares a simple but wonderfully flavorful pasta. Fresh tomatoes are diced and mixed with olive oil, garlic and basil. This is tossed with spaghetti noodles and sprinkled with parmesan cheese. I’ve made this same dish before countless times, but never has it tasted this fresh. I can’t stop marveling at how simple, fast and fresh Italian cuisine is. But by far my favorite thing is all the ingredients come from people Frank Sr. knows within a ten mile radius. I can’t think of a meal in my past where I could claim the same thing.

As the afternoon creeps into early evening and the sun begins its decent, activity in the basement begins in earnest. Fresh tomatoes sauce is made. Peppers are roasted, skinned and seeded. New potatoes, rosemary and sausage simmer in the oven. Frank Sr. and Uncle Gino flatten rounds of dough onto wooden paddles. The first pizzas are topped with tomato sauce from scratch, sprinkled with mozzarella cheese and laced with torn basil. Uncle Gino slides the pizzas directly onto the hot stone and keeps a very watchful eye on them. I learn that it’s important to have very hot stone underneath to crisp the crust and a few flames in the fire to the heat reflects off the top of the oven and cooks the pizza top.

The first pizzas come out of the oven, and we descend on them with growling stomachs and built up anticipation. The slices are hot and burn fingers and tongues, but we don’t care. It tastes fabulous. The crust has a crisp outer layer that yields to a soft fluffy interior. The mozzarella was delivered this morning. The tomato sauce was made an hour ago. It’s pure heaven on a slice and I melt into my chair with every bite.

I am warned not to eat too many slices in the beginning because as the evening wears on, new pizza combinations emerge from the oven. Making an appearance are sausage and brocolini, thinly sliced onion on cheese, olive oil and salt, and finally calzone stuffed with proscuitto and mozzarella. Each combination gets better and better, and it’s hard not to sample each one.

During the whole eating marathon, Frank Jr., Francesca and I take a quick break to whip up an apple pie. Frank Jr. makes a fabulously flaky crust, I cut up the apples, and Francesca squeezes fresh lemon juice over the top – the secret ingredient that makes the whole pie come alive. We bake the pie in the oven as its cooling down and ate it along side some homemade tiramisu.

Sitting around the table after dinner, all we can do is sit and stare at each other. We are all in a heavenly food coma, so full we can barely speak. What a night. What a fabulous experience. I am honored to partake in such a beautiful evening with such a beautiful family.

Thank you Rossi Family. I will never forget my time in Meta di Sorrento!

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