32 things Marco Fiore from Napa Valley, CA actually loves
- A 2015 Barolo, opened an hour early
- My nonna's ragù, the one that takes six hours
- The vineyard at first light, fog still sitting in the rows
- San Daniele prosciutto, sliced so thin you can read through it
- Dean Martin singing Volare
- The Oxbow Public Market on a Saturday
- My wife Gianna, who keeps me honest
- Ligurian olive oil, the peppery kind
- A table of eight friends and three empty bottles
- Parmigiano aged 36 months, broken with a knife, never cut
- The Big Night, the movie, especially the timpano scene
- Fresh pasta drying on a rack
- Rome, always Rome, specifically Trastevere at 10pm
- A guest who sends back a clean plate and nothing else
- My grandfather's wine press, rusted, beautiful, retired
- The belief that feeding people is a form of love
- Nero d'Avola from Mount Etna
- Sunday lunch that goes until Monday
- Etta James singing At Last
- The Silverado Trail in October when the leaves turn
- Burrata, the real kind, when you tear it open and it weeps
- My son Marco Jr., who wants nothing to do with restaurants and I respect that
- Negronis, equal parts, stirred not shaken, big ice
- The Pantheon in Rome, the light through the oculus at noon
- Luciano Pavarotti singing Nessun Dorma
- A properly made risotto, which cannot be rushed
- The regulars, the ones who come every Thursday
- Fennel pollen on grilled fish
- The principle that generosity always comes back
- A well-seasoned wood-fired oven
- The smell of basil when you tear it
- Walking the vineyard rows after harvest, the quiet