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Memories of Grandma Dina

"In these places of delight everything was perfume."

“I remember the beauty of Nonna Dina, her lush vegetable garden and her welcoming home that opened hearts to happiness.”

“Scent of dahlias, lilies of the valley, violets, laurel, rosemary, rows of tomatoes, and boxwood hedges. Scent of fruits, apricot and peach, grapes and large flowering trees, such as the magnolia with its shiny and regal leaves. That perfume he entered the house with large open windows, and always accompanied me.

In the kitchen of this Liberty house from 1926 and in the garden we cleaned tomatoes, aubergines, courgettes, leeks and then everything was boiled on the ground floor, where the pots grumbled each with its own recipe.

They were the freshest vegetables from the garden, and the scent of the lemon grove, with the large, yellow lemons that made you want to eat them.

That home and that delight, they were the scent of my magnolia, with its enormous flowers and meaty ones that my grandmother had placed in my room to perfume it, as her grandmother did with her.

That magnolia, which I love, and which loves me as if it were one of my own, it was with the scents of the Garden, the center of my childhood games, the first thing I recognize about my home coming from far away.

That building, built next to our Renaissance tower, was finished in 1926. Our place of delight.

Home and delight are two words that go hand in hand.

Nonna Dina's delight is a harmony of details, it is refinement as a means to be happy, to live surrounded by beauty. Delight is perfume, it is magnificence and taste, it is knowing how to live.

What a delight! And how many memories have become mine forever, running through those halls and in that garden with the other children. I remember the hemp sheets, rigorously hand-embroidered, according to Florentine art.

Their lavender scent filled the air when they were lying in the sun, and we played among them, laughing carefree.

That scent remained in my heart, and will remain there forever, like the image of those white sheets wet in the air, free and fluttering waiting to be ironed with love, and placed in the wardrobes wrapped up with satin ribbons, from ecru to pale pinks.

The same scent of Nonna Dina's Garden is enclosed in precious and tasty jars.

For me, that house and that delight were the recipes of my grandmother Dina, who supervised the work in the kitchen. That house and that delight were the scent of my magnolia, with its enormous and fleshy flowers that my grandmother had placed in my room to perfume it, as her grandmother did with her.

That home and that delight were our deep traditions; the Christmas trees in the large room with the whole family gathered, the songs, the joy, the scent of orange peels and pine twigs melting into perfume, burning in the large cast iron stove, so beautiful, with its sinuous Art Nouveau softness .

Holiday foods so delicious and rare. The wait for the arrival of the Befana, the old man winter, imagined by children, in the stories of adults, as an elderly lady. The Befana, the winter, which was about to leave us, brought its most precious gifts to us little ones. We were waiting for her with a little fear for her appearance, and a lot of impatience. Grandma called her from under the fireplace, and we remained silent, alert and curious. Fascinated, we looked around, sure that we could see her.

After calling her, the grandmother focused our attention on a noise, one of many in that big house: the Befana had arrived. That noise was her, there near us, high up on the roof. We were thrilled, very happy with his arrival, and ran to the attic followed by our grandmother. She showed us where the Befana had passed to come down the chimney, and we watched curiously. She had come to bring us gifts, we had been good all year waiting for this moment. Upon discovering that the Befana had passed there, not far from us, we were amazed, full of joy, the carefree joy of the little ones. We then went down to the ground floor again, and there we found his footprints in the ash, he had left his traces in the kitchen.

Grandma was smiling, she had worked her magic, and we ate the desserts, the desserts that the Befana had brought, but that in reality her grandmother had made.

That house had its traditions, traditions handed down from father to son, from mother to daughter.

He had his own knowledge and his own taste. A refinement in details and know-how. He had a profound taste for the beautiful and the good. He lived his delight!

It is these traditions, this delight, the joy of life it's mine know, what was handed down to me and which was handed down many times before me, which I put into everything I do.

This is what I want to share with you, because I was taught the art of receiving and sharing. The perfumes that I mix are the result of Nonna Dina's recipes and only serve to reproduce the perfumes that have characterized my life, the perfumes of nature that welcomed me in that wonderful place.

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