The New York Times – When Stefano Secchi was growing up in Dallas, the end of every school year meant the beginning of a great adventure. His parents, intent on maintaining a connection with their relatives in Italy, put him and his two brothers on a plane, and off they flew to Sardinia, where the sprawling Secchi clan clustered around and tended to the family farm. He remembers the sheep and cows that grazed on the hillsides, the tomatoes, wild fennel and zucchini that grew in such abundance. He remembers the long sunny days and the nearby sea. But more than any of that, he remembers the Sunday meal.
