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About Genoa

I hit the streets, tho—elevators get old fast. This one bird, right, she’s standin’ by a flickerin’ lamp, all sass and shadow. “What do you want?” she snaps, like I’m wastin’ her night. “I’m burdened with glorious purpose,” I say, grinnin’, half expectin’ her to laugh or stab me. She rolls her eyes—fair, I’d do the same. “Fifty quid,” she goes, and I’m like, mate, I’m a god, not a bank! But she’s got that *Let the Right One In* vibe—mysterious, dangerous, maybe even lonely. “I don’t let just anyone in,” she mutters, echoin’ the flick, and I’m hooked.

Pompeii and Herculaneum

But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring! Like, seriously? I’m drenched in seconds. I duck into a nearby shop, and guess what? It’s a ceramics store. I’m browsing, and I see this beautiful plate. I’m like, “I need this in my life!” But then I check the price. My wallet screams. So, I just take a pic and move on.

Peppe Guida | Chef