Monterosso had herds more American college students in mesh running shorts than I’d expected, so it was nice to have our own little slice of quiet at Agriturismo Buranco. The agriturismo was a short walk up a steep, slippery road from the old part of town, but we were soon surrounded by grapevines, olive trees and fuschia flowers. The foccacia they served at breakfast was a revelation — pillowy soft, infused with just the right amount of olive oil. It made the dry stuff we get in the U.S. seem stale and tasteless. We also ate as much pesto as we could since one of the Liguria’s other food contributions to world cuisine is basil pesto. We weren’t ever disappointed. Even though it was raining on our second day there, Meri, our host at Buranco, walked up a tray with snacks and two glasses of their tasty — almost chardonnay-like — white wine. We put Stella to bed and then savored the wine the farm’s covered porch.