I’m not Italian. I’m not pretending to be. But somewhere between a bite of something hot and crispy in Palermo and a glass of cold white wine at sunset in Trastevere, I fell head over heels.
Italy hit me in a way nothing else ever has. The food, the chaos, the beauty, the contradictions, the joy. It’s not just about pasta or pizzas or the perfectly bitter espresso (though all of those things are pretty damn great). It’s the feeling of being somewhere that knows who it is and doesn’t apologize for it. It’s the woman yelling at her cousin in the market, the Nonno watching the world from his plastic chair, the sea glittering like it knows a secret.
That feeling got into me.
I used to think I had to move there, pack it all up and go full expat in olive country mode. But at some point, I realized something important: I didn’t need to live in Italy to love it. I could build a life here that celebrated all the things I found so inspiring over there.
And let’s be real. Sometimes, the best expressions of Italy live in the least expected places. A deli counter in Long Beach. A neighborhood pizzeria that nails the crust. A bottle of Nero D’Avola that shows up at the right moment. These things matter. They carry the soul.
So that’s what this blog Aaroncino is about.
It’s for anyone who’s ever been lit up by a place or a plate of food.
It’s about bringing food, wine, culture, and travel into the everyday.
It’s for the curious, the wanderers, the romantics, the hungry.
It’s for people who want to know more. Not just about what’s on the plate, but who put it there and why.
I’ll write about wine because I work with it. I’ll write about food because I live for it. I’ll write about people because they’re the heart of it all.
Sometimes I’ll write from the road. Sometimes from home. But always with an eye toward that feeling Italy gives me, and the ways it shows up in the world around us.
Now about this name: Aaroncino. It’s a mash-up. Me (Aaron) + arancino, the deep-fried rice ball from Sicily. I love that damn snack. It’s portable, it’s humble, and it’s full of surprises, just like I hope this blog will be.
And as for supplì, well… that’s Rome’s answer to the arancino. Same rice-ball idea, different attitude. A little rougher around the edges. Like Rome itself and a nod to my good friend (mi amico mio) Claudio who hails from Roma.
More on that in the next post.
Until then —grab a glass, grab a bite, and let’s get into it.
Aaroncino begins now.
