In the summer of 2019, I was heading into my second year of journalism school in Toronto and decided I wanted to experience Italy—not just visit, but truly immerse myself. A friend who had au paired in Madrid once told me that the best way to see the world was to live with a family. On the evening of my eighteenth birthday, I went on Au Pair World and found an ad to spend the summer in Italy with the Semplici family.
Life in Sirolo
From May until August, I lived in a one-bedroom apartment with a family of four in the Adriatic seaside town of Sirolo in the region of Le Marche. It’s a medieval village with crumbling stone walls that trace the edges of town like a barrier containing paradise from spilling out. Around it stretches the lush Conero Riviera, a natural park where hills sprawl toward the sea in green waves. At the center of Sirolo stands a tall church clocktower, its chimes echoing across the piazza, where boutique shops display handmade sandals and jars of local olive oil.
A Summer of Food
But what I remember most is the food. Sirolo, perched beside the Adriatic Sea, is famous for its seaside cuisine—simple, fresh, briny, and utterly alive. Fishermen hauled in their catch at dawn, and by noon those same fish appeared on my plate, grilled with a tangy drizzle of lemon. The vineyards that sweep the coast offer full-bodied wines, deep and velvety, while gelaterias tempt with fruity flavors that could almost pass as healthy. Evenings meant pizza baked in wood-fired ovens, its crust blistered and smoky, eaten on the stone steps of pastel-colored houses where striped awnings shaded flower-filled windowsills. The salty air mixed with the perfume of jasmine and tickled my nose. It seemed the whole town exhaled summer.
Becoming Part of the Family
I was lucky: the Semplici’s welcomed me as one of their own. From my side, I offered them stacks of fluffy banana pancakes drizzled with real Canadian maple syrup. From theirs, I learned to cook. They showed me how to roll out tagliatelle by hand, how to dust vegetables with breadcrumbs until golden, and how to fold truffle tortellini into neat little packages. I discovered the ritual of limoncello—bright, sharp, sipped slowly—and tiramisù, layered with patience, espresso, and laughter. By the time I returned to Canada, I knew I would never again fear an empty pantry; Italy had given me both recipes and confidence.
An Evening to Remember
One evening stands out above all. After a run to the Two Sisters lookout with Luana, my host mother, and Adelaide, an au pair friend from Australia, we returned to find Massimo, Luana’s husband, at the market with their children, Gregorio, eight, and Maria Vittoria, twelve, gathering ingredients for homemade pizza. Back in the kitchen, Gregorio—his small hands sure and practiced—showed us how to knead the dough and spin it on our fingers. At just eight years old, he was already a better cook than most university students I knew. He taught me something important: it doesn’t matter if your pizza is round or lopsided—what matters is the taste.
As Maria Vittoria practiced her cello in the background, her bow moving elegantly, we layered mozzarella and zucchini across the dough. We sipped glasses of Sangiovese from the hilltop vineyard where, in the early mornings, wild boar rustled through the brush. The smell of baking crust, bubbling cheese, and roasting vegetables filled the kitchen, carrying with it a sense of home.
Lessons from the Semplici
If the Semplici family taught me anything, it’s that Italian cooking is more than ingredients. Yes, the tomatoes are sweeter, the olive oil richer, the seafood impossibly fresh—but it is the love sprinkled into every step that makes the meal unforgettable. In Sirolo, I learned that food doesn’t just fill the stomach, it also fills the heart.
