Now that I’m camped out in small town America, I’m missing a few of the more, er, worldly ingredients that I took for granted in the UK. I’ve already whined to you about pancetta, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg in my mind.
I used to go to Bologna every year and bring back a piece of parmaggiano-reggiano the size of my head, which if I was careful would last me a good six months. Every time I went skiing in France, I brought back little cans of paté de compagne which I’d then pull out on a rainy day (literally!) and devour on a crisp baguette, spreading crusty crumbs all over the house in my wake. I used to live within easy distance of several shops which specialized entirely in locally made cheese.