​Like every square in Italy, even the one that opens at the foot of the Thirteenth-century civic tower of Cherasco, already in the nineteenth century, housed a severe Caffé Borghese, named after King Umberto I: a café entirely made of wood and mirrors, equipped with billiards, Neapolitan coffee maker, clock, and very decorated bottles of vermout and bitters. 
Even the owner that I I remember, from the 1950s, Mr. Mano looked alike, like all patriarchs of that time, to the king of his youth: pointed mustache, hair brush, onion watch in the vest pocket. Outside, under the arcades, displayed a series of tables and chairs in wicker, as it was then used, and a large tin plate with the spiral on it red wine from Amaro Cora. 
Mario Soldati stopped at the Caffé Umberto, in '57, during his "Journey along the Po valley", the first investigation of the newborn television: faded images that, a surprise, they sometimes pass by, late at night, on the telescreen of memory. 
Then history shredded everything: the bourgeois, the billiards, the coffee pot, the vermout; the caffé changed its furniture and owner several times; until Cherasco did transformed into the small treasure chest of art treasures that today is the destination of educated and attentive tourists. 
Thus, the place of an ancient hospitality, responding to the needs of the times, it was transformed into a tavern, and to wait for the passenger is now Teresio, who, like all hosts of Italy, bears only, proudly, the proper name.

​Hospitality and beauty

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