There are these biscuits that I always buy in Venice. They’re small, crunchy, with chunks of hazelnut and a sugary crust. They sell them at the pastry shop around the corner from our house. They’re called Brutti Ma Buoni. Literal translation: ‘Ugly But Good’. Were I to try and give you an idiomatic translation HKUE ENG, I might go for something like ‘Ugly Duckling Biscuits’. I quite like that. And I really like them.

As I place my order over the counter, I consistently delight in how the storekeeper pronounces their name: there’s an insistance on the ma, on that ‘but’ – the ‘m’ rolls off his tongue emphatically and then there’s a pause for effect, a wait-for-it moment just before the buoni. It’s almost tentative, ever justifying that – in spite of appearances – these biscuits really do taste good. Of course, he’s preaching to the converted. But it tickles me pink none the less. Every time .

It’s an interesting concept this ugly but good business. If something’s ugly, we assume it must be bad to it’s core. Our Pinterest and Instagram worlds – saturated with bright thumbnails, cakes doused in rainbow sprinkles and slender glamazons in pretty dresses – have trained us to eat with our eyes. We judge with our eyes too. Biscuits and baked goods certainly, but people also. Think: ugly stepsisters. Ugly and mean. Wicked Witch of the West. Green (not a great look) and wicked. Fact

We can blame all this prejudice on the evils of social media – why not? – but to associate the beautiful with the good is a basic human instinct. Most of Ancient literature is founded on the belief in physical beauty as a manifestation of pure internal beauty. Homer calls his grandest heroes kalos kagathos, at once beautiful and good. Kind of like an epic hashtag reserved only for the beautiful people. Classical beauty and the moral high ground go hand in hand. Inseparable. And woefully out of reach from those cursed with blotchy skin or love handles that no amount of cardio is ever going to shift.

And so, I worry about these little walnut biscuits. I worry how they might be judged. They’re not lookers, let’s be honest. I like to think that they’re characterful, but I’m under no illusions: sometimes characterful is just not enough. These little biscuits are going to struggle to make their way in this world, they’re not piercing the Pinterest bubble any time soon. They’re not candidates for Homer’s clique of beautiful heroes, there is nothing kalos kagathos about them.

So let me give you the pitch – a shout out for the underdog. Because it’s the twenty-first century and in a post Hans Christian Anderson era we should know that ugly ducklings turn into swans, not to judge books by their brown mottled covers and that ‘characterful’ biscuits are often the tastiest. These ones particularly so: deliciously more-ish, crisp on the outside and chewy soft in the middle. Just how I like them. They’re a variation on the theme of amaretti, but with a slightly richer, denser flavour that comes from the finely ground walnut flour. They’re gluten free, packed with protein and healthy oils from the high nut content. Let’s count them as a health food – another feather to their little caps. And they are almost ridiculously quick and simple to make. They also taste particularly delightful with coffee after dinner. Throw in a bowl of fresh seasonal berries or a plate of dark chocolates and you’ve got yourself a dessert.