Rachel Roddy's recipe for sformato, or Italian vegetable gratin | A kitchen in Rome

The restaurant was part of a long yellow terrace with a wooden sign indicating which of many doors was the correct one. Little signs make me feel good about myself; I didn't just find the right door, I discovered it, which on this occasion was not only good enough, but absurd, because I was with a friend, Irene, who goes there all the time .

We were in San Martino Alfieri, a small town near Asti in Piedmont, and the words on the wood said "Ristorante Concordia". Its facade opens into a narrow hall and three options: a steep staircase and doors on the left and right. We were directed to the left into a room with speckled gray and white tiles, wood paneling, lace-edged curtains over the windows, a wooden chest of drawers with condiments, and 12 tables, each with a white tablecloth, napkins, cutlery, heavy goblets and standard short-stemmed wine glasses, which don't seem so standard anymore.

The waitress brought a metal basket with bread and a packet of paper breadsticks, which are such a big part of eating in Piedmont, and then told us about the menu. Even though I had already made up my mind - on the way we had met Irene's boss who, upon hearing where we were going, mentioned that she had eaten the sformato the day before and at how good it was. So that's what I ordered.

I already mentioned sformati. It is a generic name for an endless number of baked or steamed dishes made up of combinations of the following: vegetables, eggs, béchamel, breadcrumbs, cream, milk, seasonings. There's action in the name too; removing the cake from whatever shape or pan it was baked in makes it "unmold". In The Oxford Companion to Italian Food, Gillian Riley describes sformato as Italy's pragmatic, stress-free answer to soufflé.

Anyway, back in the ideal room with the speckled terrazzo tiles. The origins of terrazzo can be traced back to ancient Egyptian mosaics, but its more recent predecessors come from Venice and a 15th century craft for which pieces of stone, glass and tile were placed in a base of mortar, then polished and polished. “Everyman mosaics” are sometimes described in this way, which sums up their functional beauty. Concordia's tiles also happened to match my sformato, which had its own functional beauty and turned out to be made of (braised, I imagine) artichokes mixed with eggs and bechamel, then cooked, cooled and served in slices. This week's recipe is inspired by that lunch, as well as the orange and green terrazzo tiles in my dentist's waiting room.

Another of Riley is that while the eggs puff up gently and satisfactorily as the sformato cooks, that's not the hallmark of success — or even the goal — because they're expected to fall back as they cool. Leave to cool and run slightly before serving on tiles with beans or picked vegetables, breadsticks and a standard glass of wine.

Sformato, or vegetable gratin

For 4 people

1kg of mixture of carrots, potatoes, onion, broccoli, cauliflower, peas, rutabaga, spinach, chard30g of butter, plus extra for greasing30g flour, plus extra for the tin150ml whole milkSalt and grated nutmeg4 large eggs, beaten50g grated Parmesan cheese

Peel and/or chop the vegetables, cut into large chunks regular pieces, then boil them in salted water or steam them until tender (if you include spinach and/or chard, melt them in a hot pan). Be careful not to overcook them, because they will be cooked again in the oven.

Make a béchamel sauce by melting the butter in a small saucepan, adding the flour and stirring until until it forms a thick paste. Stir in the milk and cook, stirring, until the consistency is smooth and dense, then season with salt and nutmeg.

Mash or mash Coarsely chop the vegetables with a small knife, then add the béchamel, eggs and cheese, and mix well.