Food has always been an integral part of Stanley Tucci’s life: from stracciatella soup served in the shadow of the Pantheon, to marinara sauce cooked between rehearsals and costume fittings, to home-made pizza eaten with his children before bedtime.

Now, in What I Ate in One Year Tucci records twelve months of eating, in restaurants, kitchens, film sets, press junkets, at home and abroad, with friends, with family, with strangers, and occasionally just by himself.

Ranging from the mouth-wateringly memorable, to the comfortingly domestic, to the infuriatingly inedible, the meals memorialized in this diary are a prism through which he reflects on the ways his life, and his family, are constantly evolving. Through food he marks – and mourns – the passing of time, the loss of loved ones, and prepares himself for what is to come.

Whether it’s duck à l’orange eaten with fellow actors and cooked by singing Carmelite nuns, steaks barbecued at a gathering with friends, or meatballs made by his mother and son and shared at the table with three generations of his family, these meals give shape and richness to his days.