After a week of surprise sunshine Mrs C wasn’t keen on going out to eat.

In fact, I’m now convinced that too much sun makes her rather grumpy.

Though we did manage a breakfast at Muddy Beach in Penryn which cheered her up.

“I thought you enjoyed eating in the sunshine.” I say.

“I do, but it’s different in Greece or Italy," she says, stuffing a forkful of eggs benedict into her mouth.

For once I tend to agree, eating out abroad is a far more relaxed and leisurely affair, and the service feels effortless. Here in Britain we are just not used to eating al fresco – and the warm weather never lasts long enough.

“What about I make a pasta tonight?” I say.

Mrs C looks up and yawns in my face. “If you want to – I can help you in the kitchen if you like.”

The thought of Mrs C slouching round the kitchen and grunting while I prepare the food fills me with dread, so I refuse her offer.

“It’s fine darling, I can manage. You get some rest.” I say.

The last time we were in Rome I ordered gnocchi in a tiny restaurant at the foot of the legendary Spanish Steps. It was here I fell in love with these versatile little potato dumplings.

Cut a courgette in half and chop into 1cm chunks.

Halve some baby plum tomatoes. Heat a pan and adds some pine nuts and toast till brown then set aside. Fry the courgettes in oil with salt until browned (4-5mins). Then add your tomatoes with a pinch of sugar and cook until softened (4 mins).

In another pan fry the gnocchi in a drizzle of oil on a medium heat until it starts to go crispy (8-10 mins). Add your tomatoes and courgettes to the gnocchi pan plus 60g of red pesto and stir. Finish with the pine nuts and serve with crème fresh and basil leaves.

I served this on the terrace, just as the sun was beginning to set. It wasn’t quite Rome but it somehow felt right. Mrs C lazily raised an empty glass towards me and I dutifully refilled it with Prosecco.

“Here’s to you, my little princess,” I said, clinking glasses. “And what do you think of the gnocchi?”

She looks up at me with a sleepy smile. “It’s not quite as good as that one we had in Rome…”

Bon apetito, Mrs C!

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