A Kitchen table on a farm near Mont Amiata, strewn with wild, asparagus and giant porcini mushrooms, freshly gathered. A cafe table in Siena with slices of rich panforte and frothy cappucini for two. A table in a crowded Florentine trattoria, its checked cloth covered in plates of steaming spinach pasta. A pine table laden with pens, pencils and sketchpads in an olive grove north of Lucca. These are some of the many tables at which I ate, talked, drank and learned about Tuscany’s culture and people as well her food and wine, and finally at which I distilled what I had learned into this book, more a sketchbook that grew than a traditional cookbook.