First, let me explain the rather poor pun. I’ve spent the last two weeks in Sicily, one in the shadow of Mt Etna, which accounts for the ‘magma’, as for the ‘carta’, well, during that time I found myself staring at a lot of restaurant menus. I also discovered that Prince John’s big brother, Richard Lionheart, visited Sicily on his way to the Holy Land. While King Dick is a bit of a hero in English History he has few fans in Sicily – his knights having raped and killed many locals when passing through. Sicily’s history is fascinating.

But, back to the menu. As I say, I looked at many, often offering the same dishes, from under 20 euro for a three-course meal, to 190 euro for the ‘Stupor Mundi’ feast at a three-star Michelin restaurant (sadly I only looked) and one thing struck me. Did the physical nature of the menu reflect the quality of the restaurant?

I developed a rating system. Starting at the bottom

Plastic folder – you know, those cheap things with flimsy plastic sheets in which you slide a piece of paper. This ought to indicate the best of both worlds, fresh and cheap, but somehow it comes across as just cheap.

Laminated – if they’re going to the bother of laminating a menu – maybe 50 menus or more – it’s unlikely the menu changes very often. So, perhaps the emphasis is on efficiency rather than fresh produce. Ok for staples.

The chalkboard – I like to picture the chef writing this, or at least dictating it, shouting from the kitchen while preparing a sauce that cannot be left unattended. There’s nothing like barely legible hand-written words to communicate the art of the kitchen and a commitment to freshness. They are easily updated too, as one dish sells out you can rub it off the list. If the wine is treated in a similar fashion – today’s wine by the glass – you feel you have come to the right place.

Nothing – We went to one restaurant in Palermo – one of the late Anthony Bourdain’s favourites and sat, drinking our aperitifs, waiting for the menus to arrive. Instead, we were summoned by the owner to examine a plate of seafood and listen to his explanation of what he could do with it. Swordfish grilled or poached, squid fritto or… and pasta done this way or that? We basically said yes to everything. Mr Bourdain famously said, never eat fish on a Monday, but this was a Tuesday.

Paper – my idea of perfection is a piece of elegantly laid out paper that has just enough copy to pique your interest, without boring you with the finer details. There’s a limited number of dishes – the chef has already made some decisions for you. At the top is the date. This menu is for today only. A unique moment in time.  These places tend to be expensive, and we didn’t visit any on our trip, but I can recommend the Clareville Kiosk which manages to do great things for smaller prices.

For my 14^th birthday I was treated to dinner at The Sharrow Bay Hotel on Lake Ullswater. This was once one of England’s finest restaurants outside London. Reputedly the inventors of the Sticky Date Pudding. The meal cost five pounds ninety-five pence, about $12. I still have the menu somewhere. Perhaps that is the real beauty of a paper one.