On the way back to Marinella, a wolflike hunger assailed him. In the
fridge he found a bowl of caponata whose scent filled the soul, and a
plate of little wild asparagus, the kind that are bitter as poison,
dressed only in olive oil and salt. In the oven was a loaf of wheat
bread. He set the table on the veranda and enjoyed himself.
p. 233
The Track of Sand, Andrea Camilleri