As it often does in this part of the Mediterranean, it starts with a nonna. Grandma Lidia, to be precise – woman of great grocery lists, and even greater popular wisdom. Popular wisdom which, in places where legacies of polytheism lived strong through a couple of millennia, usually features bits of legends.

She was the first to introduce me to the days of the blackbird. January 29, 30, and 31, the coldest days of the year (allegedly). Following local customs, it does make sense. If on the 17th of the month farmers light up fires to Saint Anthony the Abbot, to burn dead wood and keep warm, the calendar end of January must mean something.

Her sister, aunt Albina, 75, a life between Torino in the north and Salento in the south, confirms via voice message for both sides of Italy. The legend says that blackbirds, once with clearer plumage, used to start nesting around these days assuming that winter was on its way to end.

But the month of January – obviously personified – wasn’t having it, and decided to unleash the three coldest days of the year. The once-white blackbird had to seek shelter in a chimney, from which it came out only at the end of the great cold, but with feathers now dark from dust and ashes. At this sign, people would look up and understand that the coldest days were now behind, and spring was finally approaching.

The reading is simple. If those three days feel freezing, then spring will arrive on time. If they are not, spring will start later, because colder mornings are yet to come.

Strong symbolism with this newsletter coming out now **to say the least**, I know. Let’s leave that aside for the moment, it’s too marketing-friendly. Because even stronger symbolism was given by Greeks (and Romans, by extension) to these days and this otherwise fairly unassuming bird. Can’t escape the Greeks, where do you think we are? (Italian hand emoji)

Activate fast-read mode. In brief, a couple of millennia ago, they believed that the flight of the blackbird would be a message of Persephone to her mother Demeter, goddess of nature and agriculture.

Hades had kidnapped Persephone to make her his wife in the Underworld, to which Demeter reacted with a drought on earth that convinced the other gods to release her. The compromise was made: six months on earth, six months in the Underworld. So when the time of Persephone’s return to Earth approaches (spring), she would send blackbirds flying in the winter sky to announce her fast return to her mother – and make Demeter start spring again.

The Sunday Lunch starts here, January 29. Rather by chance, than for attachment to deep-rooted pagan beliefs. When outside it’s cold, and we seek comfort in rich and heart-warming food. And yeah, take some minutes on a Sunday evening to write, listen, or read up something, why not. After all, lunch on a Sunday in south of Italy always meant a few things – care, participation, and couch activities for the rest of the day.

This is a mother-and-son magazine about eating, cooking, and people making food. Kind of a return to 18 years old me at the very beginning of his writing, drafting articles on culture for the town’s news website. And a wish Marialuisa, my mom, had for quite some time – to have [enough time off work and] a blog where to share recipes from her cookbooks.

It will pop up in your Inbox from time to time, most likely on a Sunday. We’ve got sort of essays on customs and traditions, local cuisines, ways of seeing food, portraits of people making interesting things. And we’ve got also a column by my mom – A Mother’s Cookbook. Three recipes for all levels as per her many diaries, as she would pass them on to me with tips and support. So we make them together and see the results here.

Coming up next week in A Mother’s Cookbook:

• Risotto with pears and gorgonzola

• Pasta and chickpeas

• Roasted quails

Next Sunday, February 5. See you here, and see you then.