Twenty years ago or so, the late chef Antonio Carluccio invited me for dinner at his house. After a few whiskies (his favourite drink), he appeared from the kitchen with a saucepan of polenta and promptly poured it all over his wooden farmhouse table. He then made a well in the centre and poured into it a pot of rich beef ragu. It was a magnificent and indulgent thing, totally new to me, but I’ve made it several times since in Antonio’s memory.
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