So. We’re in Italy, at an agriturismo not very far from Verona. I won’t gloat but it’s very nice. The pool is set in the middle of a kiwi fruit orchard and it’s too hot to do anything much but eat watermelon and slip into the water. And steal figs.

Our hosts are lovely but eccentric folk. In their guest information booklet they invite guests to use their wood fire pizza oven. So we furnish ourselves with dough (brilliant fresh stuff from the local supermarket) only to find that, no, the pizza oven’s not really for guests to use. Such is life. So we go to plan B.

In our little kitchen we lightly oil a couple of frying pans, roll the dough as thin as we can get it and decorate the top with some passata, fresh mozzarella, Parma ham and basil. We set the frying pans over a high heat, cover (with another frying pan as we have no lids) and when the dough is puffed up and golden underneath, we remove the pans from the heat, covered, while the cheese does some more extra melty business. It’s a stove top pizza triumph. Fantastico.

My daughter is responsible for pudding - and even my husband, who normally turns up his nose at cooked fruit, declared this sensational.

Truth be told we nicked the figs from the tree next to our apartment. We cut our stolen figs in half and sautéed them in butter, sugar, lemon juice and balsamic vinegar. We cooked them until they were very very soft and were swimming in a buttery figgy syrup.

We then cooked some pizza dough in a separate frying pan, flipping to cook both sides, and when it was done spread Nutella over the top. Everyone got a slice of Nutella pizza with some cooked figs and syrup over the chocolate pizza. Naughty in more ways than one. Mumma Mia.