Are you coming off a pressure cooker week at work?

Just imagine restoring yourself with The “Wave of Bacchus” Sangiovese wine scrub or another luxe viniferous therapy at Spa bellaUve in Torgiano, Italy.

Listen as NPR correspondent Sylvia Poggioli dips into old “Books of Secrets” as she tours this Umbrian spa operated by the Lungarotti winery.

Sharon at the crica 500 BC Greek temple of Ceres in Paestum, south of Naples on the Cilento Coast.

We’re thrilled that the award-winning paid subscription newsletter Dream of Italy is featuring three stories–leading with Paestum and its breathtaking Greek temples and museum–about Sharon’s recent exploration of the Amalfi and Cilento coasts of southern Italy. If you love traveling in the real Italy (or armchair fantasizing that you are!) this is the publication for you.

Subscribe now and you’ll Dream of Italy for days to come.

I was excited to find branches of bay leaf at the Farmers’ Market. Green and supple, they were nothing like the khaki-colored shards of bay leaf from the supermarket that appear to have been dried in a blast furnace.

I’m so envious of the hedges of evergreen bay laurel that grow with abandon in Italy. In the climate of southeastern Pennsylvania,  bay laurel plants can only be grown as an annual. I did grow a bay in a container for a couple seasons, wintering it over by letting it go dormant in the garage. (Trying to keep herbs going indoors just seems to be a non-starter for me.)

Bay leaf is such a wonderful seasoning that I’m always shocked by how under-used it is. The complex aroma of the leaves is like an intriguing blend of herb, wine, and allspice.

Since bay responds best to moist heat, I add a few leaves to almost every soup, stew, braise, and bean dish I cook. If the leaves have been only lightly dried, they emerge from the dish intact. Even if the recipe doesn’t call for bay leaf, throw in one or two or three. You won’t be sorry.

If you don’t have a garden or a farmers’ market, you can buy fine Turkish bay leaves at Penzeys Spices.

Have you successfully grown bay laurel? Share your gardening tips.

I crave panzanella in August. This home-spun jumble of stale bread, succulent tomatoes, aromatic basil, olive oil, wine vinegar, cucumber and onion is restorative. Each refreshing bite perks me up, makes me feel more  like a budding flower and less like a scorched weed.

I first tasted panzanella in the countryside outside of Florence. Friends told me that the dish evolved as thrifty country cooks combined stale bread with juicy seasonal produce to create a quick, inexpensive salad.

These days, the challenge to putting together a good panzanella is in obtaining ingredients that will give the dish a genuine flavor and the proper texture. The keys are the bread, the tomatoes, and the olive oil.

Bread

Panzanella requires a rustic whole-grain loaf–with no fat or sweeteners–that won’t dissolve into goo when moistened. (LaBrea Bakery whole grain loaf is one commercially-produced example. To find a store near you, go to La Brea Bakery.) Many so-called Italian breads are made from white flour and dough enhancers and are just too fluffy to hold their crumb. If you’re a baker, you can prepare the Italian Wheat Berry Bread for the panzanella. If you think your bread won’t hold up to the water bath, I recommend skipping that process. Instead, simple toast the bread lightly and then cut it into cubes before tossing with the vegetables and dressing.

Tomatoes

Choose very ripe fruit that’s grown in your area. I like heirloom varieties which are like tomato-juice machines.

Olive oil
The fruity taste of extra-virgin oil is essential. When it’s mixed with the vegetables and basil, it produces a seasonal elixir.

While I prefer the classic simplicity of the following recipe, you can add protein or other vegetables to a panzanella to make it a one-dish meal. Add-ins include lettuce, radishes, celery, fennel, prosciutto, canned tuna, Parmigiano Reggiano, Gruyère, capers, artichoke hearts, hard-cooked eggs and roasted red peppers.

Panzanella (Tuscan Bread and Tomato Salad)

Makes 6 to 8 servings

1 loaf (about 1 pound) rustic Italian Wheat Berry Bread, cut into 1/2-inch cubes, dried

1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil

2 tablespoons red or white wine vinegar

Salt and pepper

1 1/2 pounds ripe locally-grown tomatoes, cut into chunks

1 medium cucumber, peeled, quartered lengthwise, sliced

1/2 medium red onion (about 4 ounces), halved and thinly sliced

1/2 cup slivered fresh basil

Place the bread in a large bowl. Cover with cold water. Allow to soak for 30 to 60 seconds until bread is saturated. Test by squashing a piece between thumb and finger. Drain. Scoop the bread in cupped handfuls, squeezing out excess water but taking care not to pulverize the bread. Transfer to a platter. Continue until all the bread is squeezed.

In a large bowl, whisk the oil, vinegar, and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Add the tomatoes, cucumber, onion, and basil. Toss. Add the bread and toss. Season to taste with pepper and more salt, if needed.

What’s your go-to Italian summer dish? Tell us about it.

Telecom Italia Colosseum has a certain ring to it. Or maybe Fiat Group Colosseum will triumphantly cruise into the winners circle. But then again,  the Banca Popolare di Milano may have deeper pockets to make the Colosseum its own.

If all goes to plan, a corporation could soon be restoring the Roman Colosseum, one of the most-recognized antiquities in the world.

As Ella Ide of Reuters reports in Italy Turns to Private Sector to Help Colosseum in the Washington Post, the cash-strapped Italian government is looking for a corporate angel to pony up $32 million to completely restore the Colosseum and make it fully accessible to visitors by 2013.

Of course, I’m using the phrase “naming rights” ironically. The article does not specify whether the donor will plaster its name on the facade. Plus, there is precedent. The Vatican carried through a controversial deal with Japan’s Nippon Television Network to fund the restoration of Michaelangelo’s frescoes in the Sistine Chapel. In return, Nippon filmed the entire project and also released a massive coffee table book documenting the process.

Are corporations the new-millenium Medici? Do business conglomerates know the first thing about restoring priceless antiquities? How do you feel about the Colosseum going begging?