piccolinos


It’s all good at the Italian eatery. Grilled swordfish on a bed of aubergine and sweet peppers. Two servings of spinach because it’s better than the panna cotta and I’ll take sauteed over sugared any day. A glass of Chianti. I’m working my way through the menu with the house red.

Tall dark and handsome has the agnello every time. Baby new potatoes in garlic, herbs and loads of butter. The kind you want to drown in. A fine Bordeaux, because his pallet is a bit more discerning than my own. Espresso. Espresso. Espresso. Then cheesecake. Lemon. He’s a cheesecake fiend.

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