Our new columnist will dispatch weekly from her Roman kitchen, where a seasonal ingredient is worked into an easy, everyday delight that you can adapt in your own way. This week: peppers for peperonata...
A few weeks ago, on a particularly hot and airless day, I arrived home to find the sink unit in the hall, and two half-naked Roman plumbers lying on my kitchen floor. I knew the plumbers were coming and expected a mild mess: an untwisted U-bend, perhaps water dripping into a bucket. I wasn’t expecting the displaced sink, nor the need to pull up a large section of the floor tiles to get at the ancient pipes. It was un bordello, they told me. “Bordello” can mean either “brothel” or “a right mess”, and at that moment my small, hot kitchen felt like both. It turned out it was mostly the fault of the communal pipes in the building. I hadn’t helped though. I needed to watch what I threw in the sink, said plumber one, cigarette smoke curling from his mouth out of the door.
Continue reading...from Network Front | The Guardian http://bit.ly/1LZHc9q
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