The first time I ate an avocado was about two years-ago, and since then, not a day has gone by where one hasn’t landed on my plate. When I was much younger, I loathed the thought of them. Something about the texture, maybe. So when a tricolore would arrive at the table at Il Carretto, my friend Luisa’s dad’s Notting Hill restaurant where we’d all hang out as teens, I’d balk at the very sight of it. Back then, even mozzarella wasn’t my thing. (Quel bore). So I’d plough through packets of bread sticks instead, while waiting for my duck à l’orange (fancy, I know) to arrive. Anyhoo, I don’t know what took me so long, but I’m glad we’re friends now. Friends for life.