My destination beckons across the undulating valley, framed by sunbaked orchards and a pastel sky growing heavy with dusk: a low-rise masseria (farm estate), alone in the landscape but for a dusting of sheep. Dinner awaits down the uneven track ahead but, unwilling for the journey to end, I’ve slowed my car to a crawl. There’s something hypnotic about driving through the hinterland of Italy’s heel — the timeless scenery and drowsy warmth invite a slower pace of travel.
Finally pulling up at restaurant Le Stanzie, I follow voices around the sturdy main house, through leafy vegetable patches and patios piled with aesthetically stacked produce, to discover Chiara Rimo holding court with a gaggle of diners. Beneath their feet is the uneven paving of a Roman road. “Don’t ask me how old the masseria is — we cannot possibly know — but every era has left its mark,” says the young, dark-haired hostess.
