Cooking in Montecatini Terme, Italy with Giuseppe

Welcome to the Blog today, Friends.

I’m so excited to share this cooking experience from Montecatini Terme, Italy with you. Visiting Italy is a dream of many, and taking a cooking class in the hills of Tuscany definitely fulfilled one of my long-held wishes. You can see in the picture above the lovely plate of appetizers that we prepared in Giuseppe’s kitchen at his charming venue, The Olive Press Kitchen, The setting could not have been more perfect—a farmhouse nestled among the olive groves, once used to press olives for local farmers and still lovingly cared for by Giuseppe’s family for over a century. The air seemed to carry the scent of herbs and sunshine, the kind of place where food, history, and hospitality come together in the most delightful way.

We began the day at the train station in Montecatini Centrale, excitement in the air as our small group of four joined two other couples for the adventure ahead. Giuseppe met us with a warm smile and a twinkle of pride that only someone deeply connected to his home could have. Our first stop was the local market, where stalls brimmed with the colors and fragrances of Tuscany. Giuseppe introduced us to some of the local vegetables and fruits, sharing stories about their origins and the farmers who grew them. Together, we selected fresh ingredients for the dishes we would prepare later in the day.

From there, we visited a nearby pasta shop where everything is lovingly made by hand. The shelves were lined with neat rows of golden noodles and plump ravioli, each one a small work of art. We sampled spinach and ricotta ravioli—simple, delicate, and absolutely delicious. The shop owner greeted us with the kind of easy warmth that seems to define Italy, all smiles and cheerful conversation as he welcomed us into his world of pasta perfection.

Then we were off to The Olive Press, Giuseppe’s beautiful home, nestled among the rolling Tuscan hills. In the first picture above, you can see the ancient stone bridge that crosses the little stream behind his home — a bridge that’s stood for over a thousand years. Farmers once carried their baskets of olives across it, bound for the press that gave this place its name. Imagine the sound of the stream and the steady rhythm of footsteps echoing through the centuries.

The dining room welcomed you into the house — warm, rustic, and elegant all at once. The long table, crafted from two massive slabs of live-edged wood, seemed to glow in the morning light that poured through the windows. You could almost feel the stories it had absorbed from the many meals and conversations shared around it.

The kitchen was a true dream — a mix of modern grace and old-world soul. White marble counters gleamed under the soft Tuscan light, while stainless steel appliances sparkled beside baskets of lemons and jars filled with fresh herbs. Sprigs of rosemary and lavender hung from the beams, filling the air with their gentle fragrance. On the counter, glass jars held an impromptu bouquet of hydrangea.

Everywhere you looked there was a quiet beauty — the kind that comes from living close to the land and appreciating the simple things. Even the table was set in that effortless Italian way — linen napkins casually draped, ceramic plates in simple white, and live rosemary plants growing down the center of the table.

Lunch began slowly, as meals in Tuscany always do, with laughter, a bit of wine, and the hum of stories being shared. It felt less like visiting someone’s home and more like stepping into a way of life — one where food, friendship, and the beauty of the everyday are deeply intertwined.

Next on the agenda was the first of many edible delights — a charming mini olive oil tasting that truly awakened the senses. Three gleaming bottles stood before us, each representing a different corner of Italy: one from the sun-kissed hills of Tuscany, another from the coastal breezes of Liguria, and the last from the rugged, volcanic soils of Sicily. Each oil told its own story. The Tuscan variety was robust and peppery, with that characteristic green freshness that speaks of early harvests. The Ligurian oil was soft and floral, delicate as the sea air that drifts through that region, while the Sicilian oil surprised us all with its bold fruitiness and gentle heat at the finish.

To accompany the oils, we sampled two kinds of local cheese — one young and creamy, the other aged a few years longer, with a deeper, nutty flavor. The older cheese paired beautifully with a drizzle of golden chestnut honey, while the softer version sang when topped with a small spoonful of cherry jam. It was the kind of simple perfection that Italian cuisine is famous for — pure ingredients allowed to shine.

A crisp, chilled Sauvignon Blanc was poured to accompany the tasting, its bright citrus notes dancing beautifully with the oils and cheeses. Conversation flowed easily, laughter mingled with the clinking of glasses, and every sip and bite seemed to slow time just a little.

As we began to prep for the next courses — a few appetizers and the beginnings of what promised to be a memorable main meal and dessert — two more white wines were brought out to sample. Each one unique, each one delicious. There’s something about cooking together, glass in hand, that feels utterly timeless. Between the chopping of herbs and the slicing of ripe tomatoes, we found ourselves savoring not just the food and wine, but the entire experience — the warmth of friendship, the hum of the kitchen, and the soft Tuscan light filtering through the window.

The appetizers were a celebration of everything fresh and flavorful from the morning market. The star of the table was the bruschetta — simple, rustic, and absolutely bursting with color. The heart tomatoes we’d chosen earlier were diced and mixed with a generous drizzle of olive oil, a splash of aged balsamic vinegar, a pinch of sea salt, and a handful of freshly shaved basil. The scent alone was heavenly — that perfect balance of sweet, tangy, and herbal that instantly transports you to an Italian summer.

Thick slices of homemade bread, toasted just enough to give them a golden crunch, were the perfect canvas for the tomato mixture. When we spooned the topping over the warm bread, the juices soaked in slightly, softening the center while keeping the edges crisp. Each bite was sunshine in edible form.

A tray of beautifully folded prosciutto followed — paper-thin slices shimmering slightly in the light, salty and rich, ready to pair with the sweetest melons from the market that morning. There were also peeled figs, their deep purple skins revealing soft, honeyed interiors that tasted like pure indulgence.

Alongside, a simple tossed salad (not pictured, but equally delightful) added freshness and balance to the spread. And then — my personal favorite — the fried zucchini flowers. Each delicate bloom had been carefully prepared, the stamens and pistils removed, then lightly dipped in batter and fried to a crisp, golden perfection. The result was almost too beautiful to eat — a delicate crunch giving way to the soft, faintly floral flavor inside.

The table was alive with color and texture — ruby red tomatoes, soft green basil, golden bread, and the shimmering blush of prosciutto. It was one of those meals where conversation came in bursts between appreciative sighs and happy laughter. Every bite reminded us that sometimes, the simplest ingredients — gathered with care and shared among friends — create the most unforgettable moments.

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The presentation was a delightful mix of colors and textures that tickled your senses and made you head straight to the table. As we began to eat the flavors burst in your mouth with freshness and the ripeness of fresh fruits and vegetables.

One of the main dishes we prepared was gnudi, which charmingly translates to “naked pasta.” The name alone made us all smile — it’s the tender filling of ravioli without its outer shell, humble yet elegant in the way only Italian cuisine can be.

This particular version began with kale as the star ingredient — a deep green, earthy base that brought both flavor and color to the dish. The kale was blanched in salted water for just a couple of minutes, enough to soften it without losing that lovely freshness. After blanching, it was gathered in handfuls and squeezed to release every bit of water — not the most glamorous task, but certainly satisfying. Once drained, it was processed until finely chopped and ready to welcome its companions.

We mixed in creamy ricotta cheese, a generous sprinkling of Parmesan, a touch of salt, a dash of white pepper, and just a whisper of nutmeg. A drizzle of olive oil and the whites of two eggs gave everything a silky consistency. Finally, rice flour was folded in — a simple binder that held the mixture together while keeping it light and delicate.

Using two spoons, we shaped the mixture into soft little cylinders, each one coated lightly in more rice flour to form a thin outer layer. It felt a bit like sculpting something precious — each gnudo tender and full of promise. A few at a time, they were slipped into gently boiling water. It’s always such a moment of quiet anticipation, waiting for them to rise — that gentle float to the surface signaling they’re nearly done. After resting just a bit longer in the water, they were lifted out with care and placed in an aluminum bowl set over ice. This step helped firm them slightly, keeping their shape for the final stage of preparation.

The process itself was slow, intentional, and wonderfully tactile — hands dusted with rice flour, the aroma of nutmeg and Parmesan mingling in the air. Around the kitchen, there was an easy rhythm — laughter, soft conversation, the clink of spoons against bowls — all part of the joy of cooking together in Tuscany.

The next dish we turned our attention to was the risotto — rich, comforting, and deeply aromatic. It filled the kitchen with that unmistakable earthy fragrance of mushrooms mingling with warm broth and butter. Ours featured five different kinds of mushrooms, each one adding its own note to the symphony of flavor — some nutty, some woodsy, and a few with that deep, almost truffle-like richness that lingers in the air long after they’ve hit the pan.

We began by slowly sautéing the mushrooms in olive oil and shallots until they released their juices and began to caramelize ever so slightly at the edges. Then the rice — plump, pearly grains — was added to a pan with olive oil and shallots and garlic sizzling away. The rice was coated and set aside for a few minutes to absorb the flavors. Then the vegetable broth was added as the pan heated up. Giuseppe used a no stir method to cook his risotto so no constant stirring. The mushrooms were added to the pan before serving.

When the risotto reached that perfect stage of tenderness, still with the slightest bite at the center, a generous amount of freshly grated Parmesan cheese was stirred in. It melted into the rice, creating a glossy, velvety finish that clung lovingly to each grain. The aroma was heavenly — warm, savory, and deeply satisfying.

We also prepared a simple tomato sauce to accompany the gnudi — the kind that lets the ingredients speak for themselves. San Marzano canned tomatoes were pureed and simmered with olive oil, shallots, garlic, a touch of salt, and a whisper of white pepper. The sauce was light, bright, and fragrant, a perfect counterpoint to the richness of the risotto and the delicate gnudi.

By the time both dishes were ready, the kitchen was a swirl of warmth and anticipation. The wines were poured, laughter bubbled up easily, and the table was once again set for another delicious moment in Tuscany — a reminder of how joyfully food connects us, no matter where we are.

The main portion of the meal was accompanied by two different red wines that enhanced the flavor of the main dishes.

Dessert was a vision of elegance and comfort — a beautiful layered creation that perfectly ended our meal. Ladyfingers, delicately soaked in a tangy-sweet sour cherry sauce, were nestled between layers of homemade lemon custard. The custard was silky and bright, its citrus notes balancing the richness of the cherries, which had been sliced in half to reveal their deep red color. Each spoonful offered that irresistible mix of tart, creamy, and sweet — the kind of dessert that makes you close your eyes for just a moment to savor it.

A final glass of wine was poured to accompany dessert, and it paired beautifully with the cherries and lemon — light, crisp, and just the right touch of indulgence. Afterward, we were offered Italian coffees, brewed strong and aromatic, though, “No cappuccino after lunch — it’s just not done!” Espresso it was, rich and bracing, the perfect conclusion to such a lovely meal.

It truly had been a stellar day — a table filled with laughter, the scents of good food and wine in the air, and the easy camaraderie that comes when everyone shares the joy of cooking together. Giuseppe was a wonderful teacher — patient, humorous, and full of knowledge — making every step feel approachable and fun. We were gifted with our crisp new aprons and a small paper cookbook filled with his favorite recipes, a keepsake to carry a bit of Tuscany home with us.

As we said our goodbyes, our driver, Marco, was waiting with his ever-cheerful smile to take us back to the train station — transportation conveniently included in the class. We watched the golden hills roll by, full of gratitude and good food, hearts and bellies both well-fed.

What a wonderful day it was — the kind that lingers long after it’s over, tucked into memory like the scent of rosemary on your hands. You can contact Giuseppe at: https://www.theolivepresskitchen.com to book your own wonderful experience in the Tuscan hills.

Thank you so much for joining me, friends, on this Italian cooking adventure. I hope you enjoyed traveling along with us through the olive groves and the warm Tuscan kitchen. Stay tuned — there’s more to come as we continue our journey through Italy.

Ciao tutti! 🌿🍷