by Colleen Clark

It could be anytime between noon and four, and my stomach grumbles. I pad barefoot down the cool marble stairs and pop into the kitchen at the Palazzo Margherita, in southern Italy. I raid plates of cheese, smear hunks of bread in jam, ask for sweets and leftover tangerine juice, even though dinner's fresh pastas and sauces are well under way.

This deliciously languid, come-as-you-are ease is rarely the province of a five-star European hotel, especially one with a celebrity pedigree. But this hotel is owned by Francis Ford Coppola, Hollywood's most legendary family man, and he wants you to make yourself comfortable here in his ancestral home of Bernalda, smack in the middle of boot-heeled Italy's arch.

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