Cooking dinner is a practical evaluation of options—you go out and pick what is seasonally available! You aren’t going to pull out fresh tomatoes in November, it just doesn’t happen as greenhouses are not in mainstream use.

That’s not to say that there aren’t talented chefs doing splashy and creative things with food. In, Lecce, for example, a young chef, Solaika Marrocco, is gaining recognition as the new, fresh face of cuisine in the region. One of my favourite appetizers was a dish prepared by her that featured tomato skin in carpaccio-style thinness (essentially an ironed-out blanket of tomato) draped over vegetables.

Her dishes tell a story and that story is always rooted in Puglia and the experience of a meal. As Solaika says, “At home, I never think of simply eating; at my family house, behind every meal, there was history, culture and responsibility.” Watch out for her first Michelin star any day now.

After that meal, I found myself back on the road for the easy-going return to my accommodation and, again, the smell of smoke was pleasantly present in the air. With the fall months ushering in cooler evenings, by mid-afternoon, it’s not unlikely to see smoke puffing out of stacked chimneys, as fireplaces are lit to keep farmhouses nice and cozy for the evening.

During the afternoons, too, you’ll see barbecues blazing as food is prepared en-mass for the grape harvesters. During this time, when the grape has just been pressed and mixed with wood and placed within stainless-steel barrels, any cantinas (wine cellars) that you pass will likely emit a strong mosto (must)—essentially the aromas of a grape juice right before its journey to fermentation.

On another day I went to check in on my friend Sandro, a lauded chef who works for the owners of a gorgeous hotel and a private gallery in Lecce. Equipped with a functioning kitchen, the gallery has served many great purposes on past B&R trips. At times Sandro has nipped around the kitchen providing cooking demonstrations; on others, a local art expert has added context to the historic buildings under the family’s purview (two hotels and the art gallery) to guide us through the fascinating structures before we sit down to a catered dinner in the courtyard of the gallery, a string trio off to the side.

Despite being on the tourism radar (there’s lots of investment in Puglia right now—especially with UNESCO recognition increasing), I’m still drawn to the small delights of the region and its ability to maintain Old World charm: Quiet biking routes zig-zag all over the map; olive grove lanes with farmers driving Ape trucks; unobserved hamlets where older men play cards in the piazzas drinking a little glass of wine; nonnas who are constantly rolling out fresh pasta and asking you to come inside for a chat.

One of my last meals on this visit was near the end of October when the days hover 20 degrees Celcius (68 F) and the nights feel a tad crisp and I found myself tucked into a surprising comfort meal of chicken gnocchi smothered in sauce and accompanied by a stemless chalice of chicken broth. The broth was meant to be consumed alongside your glass of red wine. An alternation of the hearty and the soulful. I sipped my wine; I sipped my broth. And on I went.