We used to go there on Saturdays, for family outings. There’d be huge bowls of pasta, served with sauce and with stuffed escalopes of veal - alouettes san téte, ‘headless larks’, they were called - and meat balls, all cooked in the same sauce. The rooms would be full of the fragrant smell of tomatoes, basil, thyme and bay leaves. Bottles of rosé wine would be handed round in between bouts of laughter. Meals would always end with a singsong…….
from One Helluva Mess by Jean-Claude Izzo (1995). Highly Recommended.