A metal pot holds a custard so vibrantly yellow it resembles liquid sunshine. Our waiter gently pours the sugary, egg-yolk elixir, known as *zabaglione*, into bowls for soaking warm *pansarole* doughnuts. Conversation halts, a silent competition to grab the last piece. We are genuinely living *la dolce vita*.
This dessert is a specialty in the village of Apricale, a enchanted settlement in Liguria, Italy's crescent-shaped region that lines the Mediterranean. It's a world away from the crowded Five Lands and upscale Portofino to the east. This western edge, on the south-eastern border with neighboring France, feels more genuine and more peaceful in the off-season, with more inhabitants than tourists. Unburdened from fighting for bookings, you are free to live in the present. Let impulse be your guide – or, in our family's instance, our cravings.
A Family Quest Rooted in Love for Italy's Food
I ventured to Liguria with my sibling, her partner, and their 11- and 14-year-old kids, spurred on by my sister's studies in Italy and our common enthusiasm for the country's comforting, child-pleasing dishes. Our road trip wound from the coastal Flower Riviera to a collection of historic hilltop villages. In just a compact region, we journeyed back in time.
A former partner from Sicily had shown me Liguria one January. Though it was wet, the nearby mountains deflect the wind, creating a special weather zone with moderate temperatures that hover around 13C. Our December trip was filled with the most sublime winter light, perfect for outdoor dining.
The First Stop: A Town Perched Between Sea and Sky
Traveling eastward from Nice, the motorway is marked by a series of breathtaking curves and tunnels. Our initial destination was a brief journey away, just over the frontier. This town is split into two parts: the bustling lower town and the ancient hilltop quarter, poised above the coast. On a sunny terrace, we devoured crispy squid paired with views of the sea. The kids made like pirates in front of a statue of the fictional pirate, the star of a famous pirate story.
We entered the labyrinthine streets of the historic center via the ancient stone archway. Clothes was strung across pastel facades, their beautiful patina coming from centuries of wear. Two churches on a main street have notable elements: the strikingly real *Cristo Morto* (depiction of Christ) and an ancient stone basin.
We entered the labyrinth of the old town where laundry fluttered from colorful buildings, their character from age resulting from hundreds of years.
Dolceacqua: Stone Alleys and a Famous Bridge
Back in the car, we headed a short while north to the village by the river of Dolceacqua village. An spontaneous search for "places featuring tubs" resulted in finding a cozy inn set in the old Borgo district. Its rustic rooms are juxtaposed by contemporary jacuzzis. The ancient old quarter sits across the river via the beautiful ancient bridge that the painter Monet captured in paintings, as shown by a wooden cut-out of him by the riverside.
On Via Castello, the children felt "enveloped by the stone buildings" that leaned towards each other. We climbed the tight Ligurian *caruggi* (passageways) to the Castello dei Doria. The seat of a notable clan from the Middle Ages, Dolceacqua's grand dame is now an atmospheric ruin of tall arches, a history lesson that is great for playing.
Back in town for aperitivo, every beverage came with a free plate of bites – "The way it's done," noted a relative. Our server at a trattoria assured us: "You'll love it all. If you aren't pleased, I'll eat it." We sampled local specialties: *trofie* (curly) pasta with basil sauce, potatoes and green beans, and *barbajuan* (savory) fritters. All paired with Rossese di Dolceacqua, an rustic red that's hard to get outside the region due to the steep, terraced vineyard's modest yield.
Apricale: Precariously Perched Charm
The day after, we motored 15 minutes north-east to one of "Italy's prettiest towns", this stunning village. The terracotta-roofed village climbs up verdant slopes, seemingly hanging on. Known as an artists' town, Apricale's winding lanes are adorned with murals. We got a private showing, with stray cats the only movement on the deserted lanes.
The main piazza, Piazza Vittorio Emanuele, is framed by two pink churches and the carefully maintained millennium-old Castello della Lucertola, whose dark dungeon felt like the dark ages. As did the equally vaulted stone dining room at a local ristorante, where we half expected the waiter to slice our meat with a dagger. The source of the aforementioned egg-yolk dessert also serves robust *coniglio* (hare) and pork stew with cornmeal and *farinata* (chickpea flatbread). Returning to the hotel, we stopped by a neighboring hamlet, another picture-postcard village, for a post-dinner walk – the classic Italian gentle amble.
The Coastal City
Back on the coast, the city of Sanremo felt like a busy city compared with the quiet villages. The city of over fifty thousand became a tourism hotspot in the Victorian era, when the European aristocracy, particularly the British, decamped to the Mediterranean for its health-giving winter weather. Decorative belle epoque grand hotels, gaming houses and villas are testaments to this era, their aging elegance like a starlet in her twilight years.
The city's Mercato Annonario was full of gargantuan cheese wheels, {cured meats|salamis|prosci
