The Amalfi coast, summer 2005: I’m 14 years old and on a family holiday. I keep seeing people eating these brioche rolls stuffed with ice-cream and, naturally, they’re all I can think about. When I finally get one, it’s not at all how I’d imagined – the brioche is a bit stale, and the sun melts the ice-cream inside and it runs down my elbow. I still love the idea of it, though, and I like to think this version is an improvement on that first one I ate in Italy.
