“When I was growing up,” Cesare said, “everything was outside. We have a pig. The day after Christmas, we kill the pig, and we eat it all. From the pig we get sausage, prosciutto, feet, head — it feeds you for a year. I make everything most simple possible. This is poor person’s food.”
“In Tuscany, we only eat pasta on Sundays,” Julian said.
“No!” Cesare said. “He speaks like this because he’s an aristocrat.” They banter like frat boys.