Growing up in Italy, it would be commonplace to find five year old me clamouring on kitchen furniture to get a peep of my nonna preparing what I called “happy food”.
Once settled on a chair I would spend hours gawping as she kneaded, rolled and shaped heaps of dough which eventually, as if by magic, would turn into the most delicious pizzas of all time. In an attempt to recreate this cheesy doughy heavenly state of bliss, I have used countless cookbook recipes to make homemade pizzas in my kitchen oven, but none tasted quite like hers.
