Earlier this month, Herbie Leonelli was not his usual easygoing self. The pizzaiolo co-patron of Datte Foco in London was getting his first visit from the maestro, Giuseppe Russo of Pizzeria Russo in Rome.

“Call me Giuseppe,” the master would instruct his apprentice.

“Yes, maestro,” the apprentice would invariably reply.

With each pizza Leonelli pulled from his oven in the London district of Stoke Newington he had been challenged by a single motivating if intimidating thought binding him to the Rome district of Prati: what would the maestro think of his pizza al taglio, the cherished “cut” pizza of Rome? Now he was about to find out. Russo chewed – chewed over – his slice slowly and chose his words carefully:

Dovresti farla un po’ più fina.

Leonelli understood the instruction – “you should make it a little finer” – as a pizza baker would. He paused only long enough to exhale before reducing the amount of dough spread out on the bottom of each rectangular tray from 1.5 kilos to 1.25 kilos. The results are apparent: Leonelli’s pizza al taglio is thinner, crisper and more refined than before.

It would be shortsighted, however, to interpret the words of the maestro in only the literal sense, or to limit their significance to pizza.

Dovresti farla un po’ più fina. You should make it a little finer.

Those are words of enlightenment we should all take to heart, whatever our craft, talent, objective or passion. The maestro knows that most things in life improve when we endeavour  to make them a little finer. After all, what is pizza if not a medium for fulfilment and a better life?