Along the heights of the Amalfi Coast in Italy, every inch is terraced, connected by steep stony staircases that tempt visitors with twinkling — but treacherous — Mediterranean views. Climbing through terraced orchards of lemon trees, I'm hot and thirsty, fantasizing about fresh-squeezed lemonade.

And then, just like a fairy tale, I come upon the daughter of a farmer who seems to be waiting for a lost and parched American traveler. She welcomes me to her terrace to join her for a little slicing and squeezing. Then, as if teaching me a very important life skill, she demonstrates how you halve your lemon, stab it with a knife, and then — cupping the fruit with one hand — you wiggle the knife with the other, and watch the juice fill your glass.