And suddenly there is Cagliari: a naked town rising steep, steep, golden-looking, piled naked to the sky from the plain
at the head of the formless hollow bay. It is strange and rather wonderful, not a bit like Italy. The city piles up lofty
and almost miniature, and makes me think of Jerusalem: without trees, without cover, rising rather bare and proud, remote
as if back in history, like a town in a monkish, illuminated missal. One wonders how it ever got there. And it seems like
Spain—or Malta: not Italy. It is a steep and lonely city, treeless, as in some old illumination. Yet withal rather jewel-like:
like a sudden rose-cut amber jewel naked at the depth of the vast indenture. The air is cold, blowing bleak and bitter,
the sky is all curd. And that is Cagliari. It has that curious look, as if it could be seen, but not entered. It is like
some vision, some memory, something that has passed away. Impossible that one can actually walk in that city: set foot
there and eat and laugh there. Ah, no! Yet the ship drifts nearer, nearer, and we are looking for the actual harbour.
D. H. Lawrence, Sea and Sardinia (1921)
Knowledge and culinary techniques added to Sardinia flavors and ingredients to create incredible menus.
Stone, wood, pastel colors, music, the harmony of the countryside in a full moon night.