This is a sensory paradoxical snapshot of the bitter-salt-sweet tension of Italy’s most seductive coastline— beauty, strain, pleasure, pressure— breeze, brightness, herbs, and promise. Herb potency is natural — wild, adaptable, unbothered. It winds in and out of quintessential flavors, lapping against texture and scent. Snippets of bay and fennel spear out of nowhere, as if from limestone cliffs. Lavender spills robustly, threading like epic curves, rosemary frames, popping in an out like hairpin turns. Wild arugula and winter basil are terraced and shelved above dramtic saline “vistas”. Like the Path of the gods, everything moves long and steep. This tastes like the coastline looks: breathtaking, crowded, serene, amped. Wild with edges. Meyer lemons preserved— bright, concentrated, indulgent — dominate carrying the ideals of the luxury tourists chase, yet what you find here is nature stripped to essentials: lemons, herbs, salt. Arugula, sorrel, chicory, radicchio pepper bitterly and ruggedly a nod to Amalfi’s essence beneath the tourist gloss. Summer Calabrian chilies preserved make winter heat and fennel seed, coriander, and black pepper are dusted in sparingly, a secret learned from local fishermen. This is an ode to landscapes and the way pleasure lodges in us, the way wanting more if it does. This beautiful, exploited flavor is quintessential Amalfi in motion and memory It’s pretty, olfactory and weirdly simple, use it like that. Sunshine to roasted potatoes, fish, zuppa di pesce, meatballs, risotto, any and all your most fragrant lemony Italian (and otherwise) ideas.