While the selection is best between midday and 2pm, I prefer going to the canteen-like Felice just under our flat at about 3.30pm, because, after the rush of lunch, even the chairs seem to sit back and sigh with relief. And because there is less to choose from, which is great, because I am busy, hungry and don’t want to think; the counter tells me. Also, by mid-afternoon, the last of the vegetable dishes they do so well – the several-inches-deep aubergine parmigiana, the mashed potato cake, the flat green beans stewed in tomato, and little cubes of roast potato with rosemary – have been sitting a while, resting, soaking. And now that hot days are here again, the resting is even better for vegetable dishes long out of the oven but far from cold, and their flavours are the better for it.
Four o’clock, however, was too late, and I watched the last slice of parmigiana go home in an aluminium box with a man in a Guns N’ Roses cap with a guitar strapped to his back. Which, of course, made me resent him and his parmigiana more. So, after a rice ball and a potato croquette with a bit of cheese in the middle, I bought basil, tomatoes and mozzarella, which I pulled out of its plastic bag of cloudy liquid and put on a plate in the fridge, so it would drain overnight, ready for the next day.
