Tuscany’s Val d’Orcia is a land of almost unimaginable beauty, a place that makes you feel you have been transported into a 15th-century painting. As you walk along the cobbled streets of quiet walled towns, church bells suddenly explode around you. The air smells like chestnuts and truffles, and from every open window the scent of baking bread and simmering sauce rushes out to greet you.
UNESCO has designated the entire region a World Heritage Site, and if you avoid the famous tourist towns, a visit to these mountains is a ticket to the past. Nowhere is that truer than in Castiglioncello del Trinoro, an entire medieval village that has been reborn as the luxury hotel Monteverdi.
But I have not come for the extraordinary landscape, the tranquility of this hotel, or the wonderful Tuscan food. I am here because Monteverdi’s chef residency program (anybody can sign up!) offered the opportunity to spend five days with two of the chefs I most admire, Missy Robbins and Nancy Silverton. After all, it’s one thing to take a cooking class with a famous chef; it’s quite another to spend a week hanging out with two of them.
Full disclosure: Nancy is one of my oldest friends. Missy is another matter. I’m a longtime fan, but my only personal encounter with the chef and owner of Lilia and Misi in Brooklyn was a disaster. I was a judge on Top Chef Masters. She was a contestant. On the first day Missy had a gruesome mandoline injury and had to go home. Not exactly the way to start a friendship; this seemed like a second chance.
Recognize a Lesson When You See One
Ernest Hemingway with Spanish matador Luis Miguel Dominguin during one of his many trips to Spain.Pictorial Parade – Getty Images
(Pictorial Parade – Getty Images)
My fear is that the chefs will show up to teach the classes and then spend the rest of their time hiding in the hotel’s gorgeous spa. But at breakfast on the very first day it becomes clear that is not going to happen. Our small group has just finished introducing ourselves when Nancy bites into the budino di riso and shoots out of her seat. “I’ve been making that dish for 15 years,” she exclaims, “and this is the best I’ve ever tasted!” She then proceeds to herd us into the kitchen and insist that the hotel’s chef give us a cooking lesson on the spot. “Do we have time for this?” Missy asks, looking pointedly at the agenda.
“We’ll make time,” says the hotel’s culinary director, Giancarla Bodoni, who has a refreshingly Italian attitude toward schedules. Although she has planned a very full itinerary of visits to farmers, cheesemakers, truffle hunters, and olive growers, she remains admirably open to detours. There are a lot of those.
There’s the day we’re wending our way to one of the world’s most remarkable farms when Nancy insists we stop at a small shop in Città della Pieve for the spectacular sandwiches. Luca Bartoccioni of Il Pizzicagnolo di Bartoccioni seems startled when we order everything on the menu, but he gamely begins baking. The sandwiches, which are served on just-baked focaccia, are truly amazing. Missy is particularly taken with the combination of broccoli rabe, smoked scamorza, and sausage. “I’m thinking,” she says, “that we could make a pasta dish like this at Lilia.” Indeed, a few weeks later, when I stop in to visit my new best friend, she serves it to me.
Experience Is the Best Teacher
James Baldwin in Paris, where he moved in 1948 and lived for nine years.Sophie Bassouls – Getty Images
(Sophie Bassouls – Getty Images)
We are still passing the sandwiches around when an extraordinarily beautiful woman strolls in. “Nancy!” she cries, “we’re waiting for you!” Slightly embarrassed—we are late—Nancy introduces us to Livia Giuggioli, actress, activist, former wife of Colin Firth, and co-owner of Quintosapore Farm.
The farm is every bit as remarkable as we have been promised. Livia’s charismatic twin brothers, Nic and Ale, welcome us to a lush garden that was, improbably, barren land just a few years ago. The Giuggiolis grew up next door, and they bought this land as an experiment; they’re trying to farm as efficiently, organically, and inexpensively as possible. Their goal is to create a toolbox for other farmers. We munch our way through the fields—I have never tasted vegetables as flavorful as these—and then watch Nic slowly stir peppers, onions, and eggplants over a fragrant fire to make caponata. It is just one of their many products, and Missy immediately begins negotiations; she wants to import them to sell at her shop, Misipasta.
The next day we meet an equally charismatic character. Giancarlo Più makes classic pecorino, and a more passionate artisan you will never meet. “Inhale!” he commands as he leads us through the farm. “Can you smell the trees?” Missy looks at me. “Can you?” she whispers. Of course I can. “Listen!” he says, “can you hear the wind blowing through the grass?” He insists we pet his sheep to feel their soft wool, then pay attention to the way the straw feels as we crunch through the barn.
When he begins making cheese, he instructs Missy and Nancy to help him transform whey into ricotta. “Do not,” he says, as they heat and stir in a process that seems almost magical, “call this cheese.” He holds up the soft curds. “It may look like cheese and taste like cheese, but cheese is made from the milk’s fat, and ricotta is made from the whey. “Do you care if this is cheese or not?” I ask Nancy. “No,” she replies. “But I care that it’s delicious.”
If at First You Don’t Succeed…
The American born Gertrude Stein moved to Paris in 1903 and lived there for the rest of her life.Horst P. Horst – Getty Images
(Horst P. Horst – Getty Images)
Afterward we sit down to a long, wine-soaked lunch as Giancarlo feeds us every cheese in his cellar. When we leave—can it have been five hours?—he’s still talking, still excited to tell us how much he loves his work. By then we’re all considering quitting our jobs to become cheesemakers.
“I’m skeptical about this truffle hunting expedition,” I admit to Missy as we drive off on our next adventure. “I’ve gone truffle hunting in many corners of the world, but it never seemed authentic. I’ve always felt that someone went out and buried a few truffles for the dog to find.” This time is different.
Michele Filosi never stops talking to his dog. “Argo, Argo, Argo!” he shouts, trailing behind until the dog scratches at the earth. Then Michele gets down, sticks his nose into the hole, and sniffs for the truffles himself. Time after time he comes up empty-handed. It looks as if this will be a lost morning, until he is suddenly shouting as he holds up a huge truffle. His joy is so infectious that the next time Argo paws at the ground, we all get down and start sniffing with him.
We eat that truffle for lunch. As Michele shaves it over Missy’s pasta—and keeps shaving and shaving and shaving—Missy looks at me and grins. I nod. Another first: I have never before had enough truffle.
Stay After Class
Josephine Baker, who moved to Paris in 1925.Lipnitzki – Getty Images
(Lipnitzki – Getty Images)
But my favorite Missy moment comes when we’re dining at Silvana, a small restaurant dominated by an enormous fireplace in which slabs of the local Chianina beef are sizzling over wood. As the intoxicating aroma fills the air, Missy ambles over to the grillmaster to pepper him with questions. Satisfied, she goes off in search of the chef, Silvana. She is relaxing with a glass of wine and a cigarette; Missy immediately joins her.
One stunning meal follows another. We eat, we talk, we gather for drinks and stay up far too late. Every single person in this group is interesting, and no one ever wants to leave the party.
The truth is that the promised cooking class with Nancy and Missy doesn’t even take place until our last evening, and by then we’re all so comfortable together that it’s not so much a class as a joyful gathering in the kitchen. Nancy’s doing pasta, and Missy’s preparing huge porcini, but really we’re all just messing about. And when we sit down to our final meal, a true bacchanal of pasta and steaks and mountains of vegetables—far more food than any sane person should eat—we’re all exchanging phone numbers and promising to keep in touch.
And, remarkably, we do.
This story appears in the Summer 2026 issue of Town & Country. SUBSCRIBE NOW
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