Do you like Italian food? Over here, they call it ‘food’, but we know it as the finest of pastas and pizzas and beautifully grilled fishes and octopuses and tomatoes and cheeses, many of which look much better than they taste. So when you go to an ‘Italian’ in London, that’s what offered. And it’s nice. What’s more comforting than Lasagne? Possibly with chips, and a salad on the side. For Mel.

Yet a week on and I’m almost craving… something different. Something with different flavours to those which define Italian food and therefore make everything taste a bit… similar. We’ve mixed it up, we’ve done pizza and pasta and fish, even a veal (yes, calf abuse is not just legal here but to be actively encouraged) schnitzel.

The bread here is fabulous, but only when really fresh. 10 minutes later it has door-stop use only, even though they give it to you when you sit down in the restaurants. Ahhh, but you dip it in olive oil!!! Made, just over there, behind the cinema. And I can give you a buffalo mozzarella so wonderful and white that I can guarantee it has no taste whatsoever!!

I always find that the Italian default is minimal taste. Bland. Maybe my own preferences have been ruined by a lifetime of hummus, kebabs, curry, burgers and food that simply explodes with taste. Oddly the only ‘other’ restaurants you get here are for sushi. My other favourite example of food designed to have no taste whatsoever. Just lick the wasabi with soya sauce, don’t bother with the rest.

I love it here. Love the whole Italian ‘vibe’. Love the women. Men are all short and/or fat. With one or two gorgeous ones thrown in for balance. And Ortigia is wonderful, a tiny little island off Syracuse, accessed by a bridge, or a swim, crammed with fabulous everythings. Except a good Tandoori or Thai. Salt beef bar. Felafel stall… Anything but fucking risotto.

Wedding tomorrow. Should be fab. And hot. Really hot.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx