La Locanda della Campanara

The dream in the drawer.

Who doesn't have a dream in the drawer, raise your hand!
Each of us has one, or maybe more.

It's an idea that takes shape and captures us when, more or less consciously, we open that drawer and let our thoughts wander freely.

Our dream, mine and Roberto's, was to have our own tavern, which would reflect who we are; a corner of the world where we could welcome guests with simplicity and genuine cordiality. Then, like everyone else, we would close the drawer of dreams: I would go back to my job as a teacher and Robi would dedicate himself to his profession as a surveyor. On weekends, we would go around taverns, appreciating traditional cuisines, discussing among ourselves how we would like our tavern to be, how we would furnish it, what we would cook, and so on.

One day, an article by Davide Paolini caught our attention: "The nonexistent tavern." The well-known Gastronaut described the characteristics of his ideal tavern. From there, it was all one. The dream no longer wanted to stay locked in the drawer; more and more often, we let ourselves be carried away by the idea of our tavern, with a desire to get involved with love and passion for an unknown world.

"The tavern will have few seats," we said to each other, "we won't put signs on the road to indicate it, nor luminous signs. The menu? Few dishes, only seasonal products from the local area, and the recipes will be those of home."
On one of those days when the drawer "remained wide open," Robi comes and tells me, "Come, I'll show you where our tavern will be born."
A nearly dilapidated stone house, abandoned for fifty years.

The priest of Pianetto wanted to sell it because it was collapsing.

Thickets reigned there, along with the crows from the bell tower and the pigeons from the church. My dismay was total! Then, as I looked around and Robi asked me to use my imagination to envision what the restoration would be like, I realized that that place had a beautiful soul, a unique charm.

The majestic profile of the bell tower, the austere stone walls of the church overlooking the garden, the fig trees that hadn't succumbed to the neglect of time, the jujube tree clinging to the side of the house, the creaking door with the padlock.. what magic! In the village, it was known as the bell-ringer's house because the woman who lived there after the war supported her children by ringing the bells for the priest. And so, "La Campanara," this is the tavern that didn't exist.