A Week in Sicily: Lessons from The Good Kitchen in Mussomeli

Last week, I found myself in the sun-drenched hills of Mussomeli, a small town in Sicily that felt like stepping into another world. I was there at the invitation of Danny McGibbon, a force for change with a heart as big as his vision. Danny and I first connected through the Chef’s Manifesto, a global project uniting chefs to promote sustainability through food. When he reached out and offered to host me for a week, I knew it was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.

Danny is in the midst of an extraordinary project called The Good Kitchen. His dream is to train young people to become community chefs, empowering them not only to cook but to create their own community kitchens. It’s a deeply ambitious idea grounded in kindness and the belief that food can be a tool for transformation. Spending time with him, seeing his passion and drive, and witnessing how he’s turning this dream into a reality was both humbling and energising.

From the moment I arrived, the warmth of the place and the people was overwhelming. There were others there, too—leaders from community kitchens —and together, we spent the week sharing meals, stories, and ideas. We talked about the struggles and joys of running grassroots projects, the power of bringing people together through food, and the ways we can support each other in this work. It was a reminder of just how vital these small, local initiatives are, not only for the people they serve but for the sense of connection they create.

Danny’s kindness was a thread that wove the whole week together. His generosity, not just with his knowledge but with his time and spirit, was infectious. Most evenings, we played a gratitude game. We’d go around and share the one thing from the day we were most grateful for. It was such a simple ritual, but it brought us closer together and made each day feel even more special. On the last night, we took it a step further, reflecting on the week as a whole—what stood out, what we’d learned, and what we were taking home with us.

For me, the week was a masterclass in slowing down. I realised how often I’m rushing from one thing to the next, and how much I miss because of it. I was reminded of the importance of listening—not just hearing words but truly taking in what someone is sharing. And most of all, I was reminded of the power of kindness. It’s easy to forget how far a small, thoughtful gesture can go, but Danny’s example was a shining reminder. His way of being has stayed with me, nudging me to bring more patience and compassion into everything I do.

There were so many highlights—the laughter around the table, the quiet moments of reflection, the shared joy of cooking and eating together. But what I’ll remember most is the sense of possibility. Seeing how Danny is helping young people find their path, giving them not just skills but confidence, was deeply moving. And it’s not just about them—it’s about the ripple effect as they go on to touch other lives and build new communities.

Danny has written the most beautiful book. It’s not your typical cookbook; it’s more like a storybook, with tales from his journey and the lives he’s encountered through The Good Kitchen. There are a few recipes scattered throughout, but the heart of it is the people and the kindness that threads it all together. I’ve already devoured it, and I can’t recommend it enough. It’s the kind of book that stays with you, that makes you want to roll up your sleeves and do something good.

Now that I’m back in Wales, I feel different—calmer, more grounded, more inspired. I’m carrying a piece of Mussomeli with me, a reminder of how beautiful and powerful grassroots projects can be. Thank you, Danny, for your kindness and vision, and to everyone I met during the week for sharing your stories and your hearts. I’ll treasure this experience, and I can’t wait to see how The Good Kitchen continues to grow and inspire.