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A copper pot contains a creamy dessert so richly colored it looks like sunshine in a bowl. An attendant carefully ladles the sugary, egg-yolk elixir, known as *zabaglione*, into bowls for dunking warm *pansarole* fritters. Talk stops, a quiet race to grab the last piece. It feels like genuinely living *la dolce vita*.

This dessert is a local custom in the village of Apricale, a fairytale-like settlement in Liguria, Italy's curved region that hugs the Mediterranean. It's a different universe from the busy Cinque Terre and posh Portofino harbor to the south-east. This western part, on the southern border with France, feels more real and calmer in the winter, with more residents than visitors. Free from vying for tables, you are able to live in the present. Let spontaneity be your director – or, in my family's case, our appetites.

A Familial Quest Rooted in Love for Italian Cuisine

I ventured to Liguria with my twin, her partner, and their 11- and 14-year-old kids, motivated by my sister's studies in Italy and our shared passion for the country's heartwarming, child-pleasing dishes. Our driving tour meandered from the coastal Flower Riviera to a cluster of historic mountain villages. In just a compact region, we journeyed back in time.

An ex-partner had introduced me to Liguria one January. Though it rained, the alpine ranges shield against the wind, creating a special weather zone with relatively mild weather that hover around 13C. My family's December trip was filled with the most gorgeous winter light, ideal for meals in the open air.

The First Stop: A Town Suspended Between Sea and Sky

Driving east from Nice, the highway is punctuated by a series of sharp bends and tunnels. Our first stop was a short drive away, just over the frontier. This town is composed of two parts: the busy modern town and the ancient *città alta*, poised over the water. On a sunny terrace, we devoured fried calamari accompanied by coastal vistas. The kids played pirates in front of a statue of the literary character, the hero of a famous swashbuckling novel.

We entered the winding maze of the historic center via the medieval stone archway. Laundry draped from pastel facades, their characterful aging born from centuries of wear. Two churches on Via Giuseppe Garibaldi have intriguing features: the strikingly real *Cristo Morto* (dead Christ) and an historic baptistery basin.

We walked into the winding maze of the old town where linens hung from soft-colored walls, their lovely aged appearance resulting from centuries of wear.

Dolceacqua: Ancient Paths and a Monet Bridge

Back in the car, we drove 20 minutes north to the town on the Nervia of Dolceacqua village. An quick lookup for "accommodation with baths" resulted in finding a welcoming inn set in the old neighborhood. Its rustic rooms are paired with modern whirlpool baths. The ancient Terra quarter sits across the Nervia river via the iconic ancient bridge that Claude Monet famously painted, as evidenced by a wooden cut-out of him by the water.

On a narrow street, the children felt "enveloped by the rock walls" that seemed to lean into each other. We walked up the winding Ligurian *caruggi* (lanes) to the hilltop castle. Once home to a powerful dynasty from the Renaissance era, Dolceacqua's grand dame is now an atmospheric ruin of tall arches, a living history that is great for playing.

Back in town for pre-dinner drinks, every cocktail came with a selection of appetizers – "As it ought to be," noted a companion. Our server at a local restaurant promised us: "All the dishes are wonderful. If you are disappointed, I'll finish it." We sampled regional dishes: *trofie* (curly) pasta with pesto, potatoes and green beans, and *barbajuan* (chard and ricotta-stuffed) fritters. All accompanied by Rossese di Dolceacqua, an earthy red that's rarely exported due to the steep, terraced vineyard's limited output.

Apricale: Precariously Perched Beauty

The day after, we drove a quarter-hour north-east to one of "the most beautiful villages in Italy", this stunning village. The terracotta-roofed village clings to verdant slopes, seemingly defying gravity. Known as an creative hub, Apricale's winding lanes are adorned with murals. We got a solitary viewing, with wandering felines the only sign of life on the deserted lanes.

The main piazza, Piazza Vittorio Emanuele, is flanked by two pink churches and the renovated 10th-century the castle, whose dark dungeon transported us to the medieval times. As did the equally stone-arched dining room at a local ristorante, where we almost anticipated the waiter to carve the roast with a sword. The place of the previously mentioned *zabaglione* also serves hearty *coniglio* (local rabbit) and braised pork with polenta and *farinata* (savory pancake). Returning to the hotel, we visited Perinaldo, another photogenic town, for a leisurely evening stroll – the customary leisurely evening stroll.

The Belle Epoque Metropolis

Back on the coast, Sanremo felt like a large town compared with the quiet villages. The city of over fifty thousand became a tourism hotspot in the 19th century, when the European aristocracy, particularly the British, wintered in the Mediterranean for its curative winter climate. Ornate belle epoque grand hotels, casinos and mansions are legacies of this era, their faded splendour like a actress in her twilight years.

The city's Mercato Annonario was stocked with enormous parmesan wheels, {cured meats|salamis|prosci