Frankie Dettori’s Italian Family Cookbook. Frankie Dettori

      Frankie

      “In Italy, probably more than anywhere else in the world, people live to eat rather than eat to live. All Italians, every single one of them, are passionate about food. In English, if someone is really into food they get called a ‘foodie’, but in Italian there simply isn’t a definitive word for this term. It would never occur to anyone to categorize someone as a foodie – it’s a given.

      With this kind of attitude you’d think that Italy would be the obesity capital of the world. Yet in spite of being obsessed with food Italians are actually very fussy about what they put in their mouths. Italians simply don’t eat processed foods laden with fat, sugar and salt. Instead, ‘la vera cucina italiana’ is based upon local seasonal produce flavoured with fresh herbs and olive oil. Italians love their food but what they eat isn’t unhealthy.

      My earliest memories of food and cooking are by most standards fairly sophisticated. My mother’s cooking, whilst simple in technique and not given to fussy sauces, was to say the least eclectic. This is because what she cooked on any given day depended on what fresh produce she found at her local market in Milan. This diversity was compounded by the three blissful months we spent in Sardinia with my grandparents every summer. Every day my Nonna would prepare a wonderful array of fresh local produce. This could be anything from line-caught eels and suckling pigs to homemade cheeses and wild boar. All the vegetables she served were fresh out of the ground from her ‘orto’ (vegetable patch). There were tomatoes the size of a fist that tasted of tomato in a way that I’ve never tasted since, figs so ripe they dripped with syrup, huge succulent peaches and the sweetest grapes I’ve ever tasted. Best of all, my grandparents produced thirty litres of olive oil every year from their own trees. I can still remember the excitement of helping to pick the olives as a young boy. That, my friend, is living.

      My point is that Italians don’t go in for the ‘chicken nugget’ version of kid’s food – I ate what the adults ate and learned to love and respect the provenance of food from a very young age. It’s not unusual in Italy for five- or six-year-old kids to start drinking a little wine mixed with water, especially if it is ‘fatt’in casa’ (homemade), i.e. with Nonno treading the grapes. I think this contributes hugely to fact that Italian kids don’t binge drink. They are so used to being around alcohol that it negates the mystery and disposes with the ‘it’s naughty so I’ll do it’ issue.

      I’m happy to say that my kids love their food and are not fussy, finicky eaters. I’m sure this is because they eat proper food, not so called children’s food. Sure, Catherine tries to sneak in extra vegetables here and there but overall they do OK. My son Leo will try anything once. We gave him prawns the other day and he loved them. There was even a time when all he wanted for breakfast was fish – he’s clearly his father’s son! It’s also important for me that my kids recognise their Italian roots, so we eat a lot of Italian in my house, balancing it out with the odd shepherd’s pie and bangers and mash, which I also love.

      This book is all about bringing good food into your home. My mission, and yours if you choose to accept it (I’ve always wanted to say that!), is to get families to sit down together to enjoy great food and, more importantly, each other’s company on a regular basis. Sunday lunch in my house is sacrosanct – woe betide anyone who doesn’t show. It’s the one day of the week we all catch up on each other’s news, gossip and the good and not so good bits of the week that was.

      My kitchen at home is completely open plan and is in fact an extension of the dining room and playroom, which in turn lead into the garden. When I cook at home there are always least half a dozen people milling around me (as well as assorted