Fresh cannoli cannot be resisted. For a case in point, check out the scene in The Potter’s Field where Detective Montalbano (Luca Zingaretti) is nosing around the desk of the delightfully cranky coroner, Dr. Pasquano (the late, wonderful Marcello Perracchio). There he spies a plate of six lovelies with crushed pistachios pressed into the edges, a Sicilian siren call if there ever was one. For a nanosecond, self-control reigns and he stops to consider… before reaching into the tray. Bringing the cannolo close to his mouth, he smells the comforting aroma of sheep’s milk ricotta and feels the perfectly crispy shell and the powdered sugar dusting his fingertips. His eyes roll back in a moment of euphoria before that first, perfect bite. Another bite and the shell cracks, falling into his open palm. The deed is done, it’s in full swing and he stuffs the rest into his mouth. Then come pathetic attempts to destroy the evidence of his audacity. When the doctor walks in, he graciously offers a cannolo to Montalbano, as if there wasn’t one conspicuously missing already. Montalbano demurs, but in the next shot, he’s holding another in his sweaty paw. The doctor pours them each a splash of passito, a sweet wine from the Sicilian island of Pantelleria that perfectly pairs with the cannoli. For a moment, death and crime and cadavers don’t exist. Montalbano and Dr. Pasquano sip wine and discuss the finer aspects of cannoli production. Do you prefer almonds in it? What about chocolate? How about the crispy shell? Is it possible to fry the shells using metal tubes or must they always be made with organic cane reeds like in the old days? Then, like the passing of a dream, Montalbano does what he has to do. He breaks the spell. “What can you tell me about the body in the bag?”