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Drivin’ it? Smooth as a velvet suit. Four gears, nippy engine – 1.3 litre, nothin’ fancy, but it’d scoot ya round the bends like a randy rabbit. Loved takin’ it down Carnaby Street, birds givin’ me the eye, blokes jealous as hell. Made me feel like, “I’m not going to waste time,” straight outta the movie – all moody and intense, ya know? But bloody hell, the rust! Ate those Escorts alive – proper pisses me off. Mate o’ mine had one, chassis looked like Swiss cheese in a year. Gutted, I was!

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Finally, I snag ‘em. Feeling good, right? But then, I step outside, and it starts pouring. Like, outta nowhere! I’m soaked in seconds. I’m standing there, drenched, thinking, “This is just perfect.” I mean, who needs a shower when you can get rained on in Sasso-Marconi?

Aurora Mazzucchelli: the chef who revolutionized emilian tradition