Twenty years ago I came to Italy, and promptly ate my way through every kind of Italian food I could find. I ate pizza, focaccia and pasta. I discovered polenta and stews. It was like my own version of Eat, Pray, Love only the praying was non-existent and the love came a year later. Eat, eat, eat, and by god isn’t Italy wonderful? I brought a copy of Antonio Carluccio’s Italian Feast with me. I used to look at the recipes and think how wonderful they looked. Wonderful, and pretty scary.