My prescription for a lovely Friday night

Follow these easy steps

This looks a bit small to me, but let’s assume the photographer couldn’t resist a slurp or two

Happy Friday!

Yes, I know there are lots of awful things happening in the world. Israel has just bombed Iran. America continues on its march to autocracy. Yesterday, a democratically elected American politician was wrested to the ground and handcuffed for asking a question. He was at a press conference for “ICE barbie” Kristi Noem, asking her about the administration’s handling of the LA protests. Noem, by the way, is the one who posed in front of half-naked inmates in an El Salvador prison in a Rolex and a baseball cap.

She said that “nobody knew who he was”. Footage shows that Senator Alex Padilla had just introduced himself.

But it was just another day in the land of the free, run by liars, felons, crypto-coin fraudsters and inside traders. It makes the Mafia look like Mother Theresa. (And, trust me, I know a thing or two about Mafiosi tactics. And can’t say any more on here.)

Anyway, it’s Friday! The sun is shining! And, in the language of the newspaper of the name, it’s going to be a scorcher! So, let’s make hay – or at least cocktails – while the sun shines. Today, I am going to prescribe you a lovely Friday night.

Step 1

First, remove a glass from your cupboard. Make sure it’s glistening and shiny and clean because it makes a real difference. (I will, for example, never drink wine in plastic cups unless the Mafia are doing their thing with horses’ heads.) It must be a tumbler, not a wine glass. The shape matters, too.

Line up your bottles of gin, Campari and sweet vermouth. You can pick any brand of gin you like, but not some weird rhubarb artisan thing dreamt up in Hackney or Hoxton. Gordon’s, Tanqueray, Beefeater and Hendricks are all fine. The recipe I’ve just looked at says you should pour an ounce from each bottle into the glass. That sounds to me as if it would barely fill a thimble. The important thing is that there should be equal quantities of each – and if your hand slips, your hand slips.

Add several huge chunks of ice. The huge ones somehow make it all feel much more glamorous. Add a slice, or twist, of orange, and voilà. Ecco qua!

Ideally, you’d be sipping it in Florence, at Caffé Casoni, where it was invented, after Count Camillo Negroni asked for a bolder version of the Americano, with gin replacing soda water. But Culture Café offers you the opportunity – and permission – to enjoy these things anywhere.

Gaze at the liquid jewel you have created. Sip. Savour. Serve with pistachios, green olives or truffle crisps. And tell me, honestly, if you don’t feel better.

Step 2

I could personally drink negronis and eat bar snacks all evening, but at some point most people will want some proper food. And so, I offer you my almost-no-effort comfort meal. Spaghetti carbonara! Simple enough even for those who hate cooking, like me!

Photo by Zoran Borojevic on Unsplash

Rip open a packet of spaghetti. I suppose you could weigh it, but I don’t. (I think you’re meant to do about 100g per person, but I always err on the side of generosity.) Stick it in a pan of boiling water. Do not, whatever you do, break the spaghetti into pieces to get it into the pan, as my husband did, presumably to mortify me, when we served it to guests last year. You just have to kind of let it soften when it hits the boiling water and then force it under.

While the spaghetti is cooking, fry some pancetta or bacon in butter or olive oil. I tend to get those little packets of pre-chopped pancetta, but obviously you can cut it up yourself if you like.

Crack two eggs into a bowl and beat them. (No need for a cat o’ nine tails. A fork will do.) I usually do one egg per person, but never less than two, even if it’s just for a giant bowl for me.

When the spaghetti is al dente, after about 10 minutes, drain the water and pour the spaghetti into the pan of sizzling pancetta/bacon. Give it all a good stir for a few minutes and then remove from the heat. Add the eggs, some black pepper and some grated pecorino or parmesan or both. (Obviously, I usually rip open a packet of the ready-grated stuff, but feel free to toil away with a cheese grater.) Needless to say, I’m not precise with quantities, but Dr Google tells me that 100g of cheese (about four ounces) is about right.

Do not even think of adding cream. Let me repeat that. Step away from the cream.

Step away from the garlic, too.

Empty the contents of the pan onto a heated plate (or plates). Sprinkle with more pecorino or parmesan. Place on a tray with a huge glass of Vermentino, Gavi or Montepulciano. If you’re worried about your five-a-day, you could also stick some lettuce leaves and rocket in a little side bowl and drizzle with olive oil.

Step 3

Carry the tray to your sofa. Pick up your remote control and navigate to Netflix. Select The Leopard, a newish adaptation of Il Gattopardo, a novel by the Italian writer Giuseppe Tomasi de Lampedusa about the changes in Sicilian life and society in the Risorgimento, the movement that led to the creation of the Kingdom of Italy.

Lampedusa’s novel was rejected by all the leading Italian publishers. It was only published after his death in 1958. It became the top-selling novel in Italian history and went on to win Italy’s highest award for fiction, the Strega Prize. Dejected writers, take note.

The Netflix series is, quite simply, gorgeous. The landscapes are stunning. The interiors are sumptuous. And the sexual chemistry between some of the characters is quite something. One of them, played by Deva Cassel, is so beautiful it’s hard to take your eyes off her. Cassel is the daughter of Monica Bellucci, former “Bond girl”, and French actor Vincent Cassel. Bellucci went to school in Città di Castello, our nearest town in Italy. She’s sometimes seen in local restaurants when visiting her parents!

Twirl your spaghetti on your fork. Nibble your rocket. Sip your Vermentino. Savour the beauty of Sicily and of TV drama that rises to art.

Next week I’ll tell you about my trip to Madrid and its galleries. I gorged on art, and coffee, and pastries, and tinto de Verano, a “summer wine” of red wine and lemonade. And, of course, on negronis. They were never on the menu, but that has never stopped me before and it never will.

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What’s your prescription for a lovely night in? I would love to hear about your favourite cocktail/wine/easy meal/current TV viewing. Let’s make this a proper café culture and swap tips!

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