Linguini as silky as Sophia Loren's hair

How do you determine the sex of a fennel? In the midst of a recipe, we needed to know.

Our cooking maestra quickly explained: "Only the female, the one with the bigger hips, is edible. The male is useless."

The only man among 12 women, I feared the worst.

I had joined a cooking group at Vallicorte in the hills of northern Tuscany (about 10 minutes' drive from Lucca) for what our teacher, Valentina Harris, promised would be "the most fun you can have with an apron on."

Like painting, cooking starts with a canvas, and Italy's culinary canvas is pasta. As I tentatively mixed my egg and flour into pasta dough, Ms. Harris - an Anglo-Italian with an operatic passion for gastronomy - urged me to lose my reserve: "Italians have been pummeling pasta for 2,000 years."

Forget the delicate approach.

With the dough ready, it was time to shape the pasta. The more intrepid used a rolling pin, while the rest of us reached for the pasta-making machines. "No homemade pasta is ever the same," maintains Harris. "It depends on your age, your sex, your mood. But it should be silky thin. Your linguine should be as silky as Sophia Loren's hair."

Unfortunately, my first attempt was more akin to Bob Marley's dreadlocks.

With the Tuscan sun drying the pasta on the balcony, we moved on to the sauces.

The scent of freshly ground basil pervaded the room as we prepared traditional Pesto Ligure (with pine nuts) and Pesto Trapanese (a Sicilian variation using almonds). But the most surprising topping was lemon and cream sauce - its light, refreshing texture complementing the fresh pasta.

The meal ready, we gathered in the dining room to sample the day's work. Our hosts, John and Berenice Bonallack, fell in love with Vallicorte while on vacation. They bought it, restored the 400-year-old farmhouse, revived the olive terraces, and planted an herb garden.

In the United States, super- markets offer many of the same vegetables 12 months of the year, but Italy still observes the seasons. I visited in October, when Tuscany is rich with porcini mushrooms, grapes, and the sweetest of peppers.

Day 2 for the kitchen crew was "risotto day." We split into teams, each choosing a recipe. My group decided on mushroom risotto.

Valentina and the Bonallacks formed a jury for the risotto competition. A fresh-tasting pumpkin and zesty lemon risotto left our mushroom dish in last place. Official protests were lodged when ours was the first bowl to be emptied, but the jury stood firm. We took consolation in the tiramisu.

The next day we set out for Lucca, where we headed to Da Leo, an elegant trattoria where locals wile away long lunch hours.

There is a saying in Italy: "Show me what you eat and I'll tell you where you're from."

Tuscans have earned the title mangiafagioli - "bean eaters." If the bean soup at Da Leo is anything to go by, they can be proud of their nickname.

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