When faced with the fact of the last day of summer there are two choices: bemoan that another aestival season has come and gone and Jeff Bezos still didn’t invite you on board his yacht, or unload all those miles you’ve been saving for a rainy day and fly somewhere in style. 

In this correspondent’s case the second choice came bundled with the promise of getting to New York and getting through a day of long-delayed Manhattan moments without collapsing in the arms of Morpheous. 

This journey began with a reverie that came like a thunderbolt: a few moments before my packed plane from Athens made its descent to Rome, we flew directly over Bracciano, home of a volcanic lake and a castle where Tom Cruise got married and, more significantly, where I once I whiled away a summer at the villa of late sculptor Milton Hebald. 

I mention that because there is no way to talk about anything Italian without some element of beauty, nostalgia, passion, or perhaps all three. If in the streets of New York I still feel the tang of clashing dreams and exhilaration, in the air of Italy it’s all sensory indulgence and operatic emotion. To drift from one state of mind to another is, I suppose, one of the reasons we renew our passports.

A reminder of the debt I owe to Italy came to me in a single moment aboard my ITA Airways flight from Rome’s busy Fiumicino airport to JFK. It was the shortcrust pastry tart with candied apricots from Mount Vesuvius, drenched in a delightfully cool vanilla sauce. Normally, I do not like apricots in the least, so I needed some convincing: “La crostatina è buono?” I queried the flight attendant. “It is small and quite sweet,” she replied. 

Small but big on flavor, as it turned out. A soft crust but not too crumbly.  Delicately candied apricots that tasted like Lucy Honeychurch’s first big-screen kiss:  This was a Merchant-Ivory film on a plate. Maybe it had something to do with the fertile Vesuvian soil, or maybe the talents of chef Gennaro Esposito, who designed the menu for ITA’s business class. 

His creations, according to the airline, are redolent of “flavors that are crisp and clean but also surprising,” making use of “round and full ingredients that tell a story of seasonality and tradition.”

And how. His Cappellaci pasta stuffed with chicken “cacciatora,” which involved chicken gravy, chards, and sumac powder, arrived like an autumn exultation. If you have to say arrivederci to summer, might as well do it deliciously. 

That was a first course, by the way. For the second, I somewhat regretted not trying the amberjack, cooked a t low temperature with citrus essence and turmeric, served with a potato soft flan and green beans in pesto sauce — one should really never say no to pesto.

The airline is using the new A330-900neo plane on the Rome to New York route, at least on my trip. 

While I’ve read that the business class seats on on the A330-900neo are not the widest in the skies, that’s a bit of quibble: of the few times I’ve flown in the front cabin over the past few years, this lie-flat seat was not only the most comfortable but also the easiest to use. Its sleek design pairs a soft leather seat with smart storage spaces and a soft-touch tray table that is refreshingly easy to operate. 

My seat was in the central aisle and was adjoined with another, but a screen can be raised between the two for a bit more privacy. The video screen is nestled in a fabric console, and the lighting is soft and also easy to figure out. All of this is very conducive to taking a few snoozes. Overall one has the illusion of being ensconced in a luxury suite somewhere on the shores of Lake Como. 

Despite the perception to the contrary, I am less of a frequent traveler than I was before the great covid revolution in travel. After all that, we generally have a world where overtourism is the default setting of many destinations. Because I left my youth at Bracciano, or a good chunk of it, travel is now often more travail than actual pleasure. 

Countries like Italy, and in this case their flag carriers, serve as reminders of why despite the stresses and strains  it is still worth it to go. You are not going to find that apricot tart, or a Campari spritz or glass of Ferrari Maximum Chardonnay aboard that next flight on Spirit — maybe not even at your favorite Italian restaurant. 

Whether it comes to their sybaritic health spas, their premium on-board service, or their steely prime ministers_, it can be said with assurance that among European countries Italy is having a moment. If you can book a flight to Rome while the sun is still high and the plump grapes are still being plucked from the vines, it would be pazzo — foolish — to hesitate.