" She turned and looked over her shoulder, as though she were looking for signs of sarcasm about her focaccia. There were none that she could determine, only Ben’s lightly grazed face with a hopeful expression staring back at her. Her guilt feelings returned, but she also appeared puzzled, as though she was experiencing another sensation concerning the Englishman that she could not quite put her finger on. A fondness for his vulnerability and English correctness? "
― James Vasey , Cooking up a Country: FICTION FOR FOODIES: Slow food is a recipe for love