The hunt for the best Bolognese
SAVIGNO IN LATE SEPTEMBER
has something of a David Lynch edge. Mist clings to the surrounding peaks and men dressed in grey camo mooch around in anticipation of white truffle season. We woke to the town organist answering the bell-ringer’s call, repeating a tune pealed out from the church steeple.
My husband, Brandon, has a theory about actively avoiding the obvious. He believes going just to the left of The Southernmost Tip of Africa is arguably more interesting than The Southernmost Tip itself. Or in this case, travelling 30 km southwest of Bologna to a tiny town in the Samoggia Valley. It was here, in Savigno, that I decided Brandon had a point.
We had travelled to Emilia-Romagna in pursuit of , hoping we might find a magical bowl of meat sauce at the end of the Via Emilia highway; the example that would lift the scales from our eyes. We’re not the first to have had this thought and whenever we shared our hope of finding authenticity, the
