A criticism often levelled at cookery writers is: ‘I could just buy that at the supermarket’, which is an apparent slam-dunk counter to the time and effort needed to make the thing yourself, i.e. why would you bother? With such people, I find myself stutteringly defending cookbooks, recipes and the practice of cooking as a whole.

My defence is both obvious and compelling: I can make it better, I can make it cheaper, I know exactly what’s going into it if I’ve made it and, crucially, cooking is one of life’s pleasures. I actively enjoy kneading and proving and waiting and peeking in the oven and stirring and whisking and slicing. Making the thing is often the whole point – the end result a delightful by-product.

However, living in 2026, I am rarely able to respond to the core argument as the item that I’m making is almost always available in the supermarket. You can get anything nowadays. That is, apart from cannoli.

Filled just before eating, freshly made cannoli are unmatchable: elegant, indulgent and unique

Filled just before eating, freshly made cannoli are unmatchable: elegant, indulgent and unique

In its homeland of Sicily, cannoli abounds: you cannot walk into a café or a bakery without being accosted by pyramids of ricotta-filled cigars smelling of nuts and lemons and cinnamon. But it is absolutely impossible to get good cannoli from the supermarket and, unless you live in Sicily, it’s incredibly hard to find cannoli anywhere else.

A cannoli should be........

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