I have a lot of favorite moments in Katherine Wilson's hilarious memoir, Only in Naples, but my most favorite is when she describes her Neapolitan mother-in-law, Raffaella, staring at a ring of measuring spoons in Wilson's American kitchen "as if they were an archaeological find." Cooking in Naples is a feel-as-you-go expression of love, not an exercise in precision, just as Neapolitan family dinner is the focal point of the day, not one more box to check off on the unending to-do list like it is here.