Stefano’s legs are so long that I was worried they wouldn’t fit under our small, narrow table. He reassured me that he was used to it and, like an old-fashioned deck chair, folded himself up before extending his legs almost to the other side, which nobody minded, because it was so comical. My son Luca was young at the time, five or six, and found the scene hilarious. Also because, at around that time, we were reading the BFG a lot – a favourite scene is when the queen’s servants balance tables upon tables to make one high enough for the giant, on which they serve him 20 fried eggs and 40 slices of bacon.
Our Big Friendly Stefano played the trumpet with his long fingers. He had come round to catch up, as well as to show me how he makes pasta all’ amatriciana (no onion, guanciale, wine, tinned tomatoes, pecorino, rigatoni). Lesson over and pasta eaten, I brought out peaches for pudding. Stefano took one, peeled it, then chopped chunks of the thick, orange flesh directly into the end of his red wine. It wasn’t the first time I had seen someone do this, but it was the best time; neat and satisfying. So we all joined in, peeling peaches, plopping away, then drinking the morselsfrom our glasses. It is such a clear memory: long limbs and wine-soaked peaches on a hot day in our old kitchen, which I have now started to romanticise, even though in reality it was a bit of a nightmare with its blocked drains and falling-off door.
