Twenty-eight days of breakfasts, lunches and dinners with the grocery list written under each week; 27 step-by-step base recipes with how many days each keeps; the Smart Bases Guide; the 14-Day Habit; the fillable weekly planner; and three bonuses: the Smart Pantry, Zero Waste, and a blank shopping list sorted by aisle. 108 pages, printable on any home printer.
You pay on a secure checkout (card or PayPal) and the email with the download link arrives right after. Nothing ships. If in 30 days you don't have four weeks of dinners decided, write us one line and you get every cent back. You keep the notebooks.
In Italy nobody cooks from a random recipe every night. You make a few things on Sunday and the week comes out of those. That's the whole method.
Breakfast, lunch and dinner, four full weeks. You open the page, you eat.
About 90 minutes on Sunday, 45 on Wednesday. Every other night is five minutes.
Each one with how many days it keeps, written as a number. Not "use promptly".
The week is already written down. Nothing to pick, nothing to plan. Monday to Sunday, with the grocery list under it.
A pot of sauce, a grain, a tray of roasted vegetables. Cooked once, they turn into a different plate every night. The same farro is a warm salad tonight and soup on Thursday.
The first two weeks are where people quit. We walk you through them day by day, until the method runs on its own.
You save a recipe. It wants a jar of something you'll use once. You make it Tuesday and it's good. Wednesday you're back in front of the fridge, starting from zero. Thursday it's takeout.
Each recipe is fine on its own. Together they never turn into a week. That's not a willpower problem. It's a system problem, and in Italy the system was solved a long time ago.
Bought for one recipe, pushed to the back of the fridge, thrown out in March. Every week has one.
Recipes are written for four or six. It's good on Wednesday, tolerable on Thursday, and nobody says anything on Friday.
Not because you can't cook. Because by Thursday there's nothing in the fridge that turns into dinner.
Multiply by fifty-two weeks. That's the year a random-recipe kitchen costs you.
Day by day, until it's yours. This is the part the notebooks walk you through.
The list is written and sorted by aisle. You're in and out.
Sunday's bases become Monday's plate in five minutes.
The novelty is gone. The page for this night exists for exactly this reason.
Seven dinners, one grocery run, nothing in the trash.
You stop reading the pages. The week runs on its own.
Laid out to sit open on the kitchen counter: big type, one thing per page, nothing to study.
Twenty-eight days of meals with the grocery list under each week. Follow it, or swap what you don't like.
The heart of the bundleTwenty-seven recipes, step by step, each with how many days it keeps.
IncludedThe first two weeks, day by day. Where people quit, and how not to.
IncludedA few bases that recombine. Cook once, eat something different every night.
IncludedWhat to keep on the shelf so you never hit Wednesday with no dinner in sight.
BonusThe ladle of farro, the bottom of the pesto jar: what to do with them, in one move.
BonusYour week on one page. Fill it in on your computer, or print it and use a pen.
IncludedBlank, sorted by aisle, for the weeks you build the menu yourself.
BonusDownload right away. If it's not for you, you have 30 days to say so.
My name is Valentina. I'm not a chef and I'm not a nutritionist. I was born and raised in Italy, and a few years ago I moved to the States with my kitchen habits packed somewhere in my head.
Back home, dinner was never a question. My mother made a sauce on Sunday and a tray of vegetables, and the week came out of that. Here I did what everyone does: I saved recipes, bought the containers, made five identical lunches. By Wednesday I'd stopped eating them. By Thursday there was a jar in the fridge I'd bought for one recipe and would never open again.
So I went back to how it's done at home. A few bases on Sunday, cooked with what Kroger actually sells, in cups and ounces, because that's what my measuring cups say now. Dinner at six, not at nine. Same plates as in Italy, different clock.
Friends kept asking how I did it. I wrote it down for them. That sheet became these eight notebooks.
Valentina is an AI-generated character created by an Italian team, and her story is fictional. The recipes and weekly plans are developed and tested by real people in real kitchens.
Then you're exactly who uses it best. There's nothing in here that teaches you to cook. There's what cookbooks never write: how many days each thing keeps, how much to make when it's two of you, and what to do with the half jar that's left. The pleasure of cooking stays yours.
It's how people eat in Italy, which is where that way of eating comes from. But it isn't a diet. No calories, no macros, nothing to track. Italian food in season: a lot of vegetables, beans, fish, olive oil, pasta in the portions Italians actually eat. If you follow a plan from your doctor or a dietitian, the recipes are written plainly, so they're easy to adapt together.
Everything is at Kroger, Walmart, Aldi or Trader Joe's. Where an Italian ingredient is harder to find, like guanciale or pecorino, we name it and tell you what to use instead, right there in the recipe. Nothing you buy for one dish and never use again.
Yes. Cups, ounces, pounds and degrees Fahrenheit first, with grams and Celsius in parentheses.
That's the case everything starts from. The lists are written for two people, and there's a rule to double them without redoing the math when the kids or the grandkids come over.
No. Two short cooks when it suits you: about 90 minutes on Sunday and 45 on Wednesday night, or Monday and Friday if that works better. The rest of the week you put together what's already made.
Eight digital notebooks, 108 pages in all, as PDF files. No app, nothing renews. The meals don't arrive cooked: you cook. You get them by email right after payment, and you open them on your phone or print them.
No. You pay once, $19, and the notebooks are yours. Nothing renews, there's no app, and no card on file.
You have 30 days from the day you buy. Write to the address in your receipt email and we refund everything, no questions. The files stay yours.
Yes. Credit or debit card, or PayPal, on a secure checkout. Your card details never pass through us.
Because it's digital: it's written once and it works for everyone, with no warehouse and no shipping. $19 is the founding price of the American edition.
If in 30 days you don't have four weeks of dinners decided, write us one line and you get every cent back. You keep the notebooks either way.
Start The Italian Week, $19 →