the first forkful is almost too divine. Thumbprint-sized nuggets of pasta drenched in a thick, terracotta sauce of sweet pumpkin, black pepper and mascarpone. Glistening jewels of pancetta sprinkled on top ooze their juices into the sauce, adding a naughty, salty note. I make a swooning face and hold my fork out to my partner, Giles. ‘You are not going to feed me,’ he laughs.
But this scene – a tiled terrace with simple tables and cushioned chairs, couples sloshing wines from ruby carafes, vines dangling from the pergola overhead, sun rippling off the pool – feels like it demands such a romcom move. Along with the local pasta, orecchiette, and each other’s company, we’re gently sozzled on inky-dark, clove-spiced Negroamaro wine; the delicious, 3pm kind of tipsy where you’re probably destined for a post-lunch snooze by the pool.
We’re at Masseria Salinola (), a
