Last time I enjoyed a meal at Carluccio was when I took my 5 year old son on a trip to Tate Modern. We stopped by the local Carluccio for lunch and found ourself crammed into a restaurant filled with men and women in suits, on their business lunch break. We ordered our meals and my boy had a lasagne. It was then I found out that a Lasagne looks exactly the same coming up and out of a 5 year old boys mouth as it did when it went in. My boy had been hit by a batch of the lurgy and the lasagna had decorated our table and everything within a meter’s radius. The waitress was very understanding and helpful, but my boy was distraught and we left before we could do more harm to London’s business lunch. Now this story has very little to do with my trip down to Antonio Carluccio’s house in South London to do this shoot him with his collection of coffee makers. He has a true passion for coffee, like only a true Italian can have. I left the shoot 3 hours later buzzing like an Italian bee….