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In Gino's Italian Escape (ITV), chef Gino D'Acampo is off round his homeland again, to the north of the country this time, sampling and then creating his own take on regional dishes. He goes to Florence first, a place I've never much enjoyed – huge queues of a certain kind of tourist waiting for cultural improvement, which are the worst kind of queues.
The steak looks good, bistecca alla Fiorentina, enormous and fat. Three-fingers fat, says Michele the steak man, who seems to be missing one finger himself. An accident with a meat cleaver, I imagine.
How do you cook bistecca alla Fiorentina? Well, you do it a bit on one side, on the grill, then you turn it over and do it a bit on the other, much like a bistecca alla anywhere else. Gino adds a sprinkle of a Lonely Planet history of the region, and a good glug of charm, and a lovely Italian accent so that "prospered" has three syllables; plus he has a flashing smile and beautiful come-to-Tuscany eyes.
And, later, for afters, he throws in a little light innuendo. "So he's rolling it into little sausages," he says as Paulo the baker makes his doughnuts. "And then he's making little balls!" What is this, Tutto Bene Hill?
I'll be honest – I'm a bit fed up with all the food on the television. And there's certainly nothing new or fresh about this kind of trave-cook-elogue. Keith Floyd was doing it way back whenever, and though he might not have been as pretty to look at as Gino, at least he got drunk, entertainingly and honestly.
"It's been so easy to fall in love with this timeless place," Gino gushes, of Florence. "And I know I'll never forget the people and traditions which have made my time here so special." What, nine-fingered Michele and Paulo the doughnut man? Never forget them? For demonstrating how thick a steak should be and rolling the dough? Really?
There's time for one last dish, Gino's own fruit and cream dessert: apples poached in wine with amaretto cream. Mmmm. Inspired by Paulo's Pesche di Prato, his tight little peachy buns … Look, he's got me at it now. Actually, I blame Mel and Sue. For most things.
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