Off The Beaten Track Italy

I should have known that any journey beginning in Abruzzo in mid November would involve two things in abundance: food and feelings. Food, because every village seems to pull out an entirely new menu the moment the calendar nudges into autumn. Feelings, because Italy has a habit of grabbing you gently by the heart and reminding you that life is meant to be savoured, not rushed. So off I went, suitcase full of woolly jumpers and unreasonable optimism.

By the time I arrived at Villa Michelangelo in Città Sant’Angelo, the sky had taken on that soft, smoky autumn colour that Italians seem to produce in every season. I checked in, admired the kind of view that makes you instantly forget your emails, and prepared myself for the first of many feasts. Dinner at Agriturismo Santa Felicita was a baptism of flavours. If you have never been welcomed to Abruzzo with plates that appear to multiply out of thin air, you have not lived. There were dishes that tasted like family traditions, dishes that tasted like grandmothers arguing in the kitchen, and dishes that simply whispered, eat me. Then we rolled back to the hotel, full of good intentions and even better wine.

The next morning began early. Italy likes to remind you that pleasure sometimes requires a schedule. Our tour through the Terre Chietine started with the village of Gessopalena, a place that looks as if someone gently placed it on a cliff for dramatic effect. From there we continued to the magnificent Castello di Roccascalegna, which rises from the rock like a stern but affectionate guardian of the valley. We even managed a small tasting at a local microbrewery. I did not expect beer, but Italy likes to surprise, and one must respect a nation that does fermentation well across all categories.

We moved on to the Museo del Peperone Dolce di Altino, which is exactly the kind of museum Italians adore. Why celebrate a pepper with such ceremony? Because it matters. Because it tastes good. Because in Italy, if something brings joy to the table, it deserves a museum. Lunch followed and brought the kind of satisfaction you only get when the ingredients have travelled fewer kilometres than you have.

In the afternoon we reached the Costa dei Trabocchi, the stretch of coastline lined with fishing huts perched on stilts over the sea. A trabocco looks a bit like a wooden spider that decided to become a restaurant, and the effect is utterly charming. We met a traboccante, raised a glass to the Adriatic, and pretended, just for a moment, that this was our normal life. A cooking class with the De Santis family came next and ended, naturally, in another dinner by the sea. My apron skills improved slightly. My appetite improved significantly.

On Friday we explored the Terre Pescaresi, starting with Loreto Aprutino. Here we visited the Museo dell’Olio, a shrine to olive oil in all its golden, fragrant glory. We tasted oils so fresh and peppery they could practically argue back. Then came a winery, because in Abruzzo no morning is complete without a small glass of something memorable. We visited Tocco da Casauria, wandered its abbey, and even had the option to see the historic distillery. The day softened into a gentle Pescara sunset, enjoyed with a coffee at the marina followed by a walk over the Ponte del Mare. One more cooking class, one more dinner, one more reminder that calories do not count when consumed for cultural research.

Saturday was our most grown up day, a blend of seminars, workshops and discussions with journalists, bloggers and tourism bodies. There was talk of local initiatives, sustainable growth, and how to share Abruzzo’s beauty with the world without overwhelming it. Between presentations we tasted more local products, because Abruzzo never misses a chance to feed you. We ended the day with a visit to Città Sant’Angelo, one of the official most beautiful villages in Italy. It deserved the title. At dinner that evening, the traditional Cena della Vigilia, the entire room felt wrapped in warmth. That is the thing about Abruzzo. It does not show off. It simply welcomes you.

By Sunday morning, as we packed our bags, something had changed. It was not dramatic. It was a quiet shift, the sort that only happens after days spent in places where the land, the people and the food are in harmony. Italy has a way of reminding you that the good things in life do not shout. They whisper. Sometimes they whisper through a pepper museum. Sometimes through an olive oil tasting. Sometimes through the smile of a traboccante handing you a glass of wine over the sea.

This journey through Abruzzo was not just a trip. It was a gentle lesson in living more slowly, eating more joyfully and looking at the world with softer eyes. I left with muddy boots, a full heart and a deep love for a region that deserves to be known far more widely.

And yes. I am already planning my return.