First comes the pappardelle, and then the fettuccine. After that you have the linguine, the spaghetti, and the thinnest of them, the spaghettini,&rdquo the chef rattles off, in what is an Italian twist to the chicken-and-egg question. With exuberant hand gestures in view, hills in the background that could be mistaken for those in Tuscany, and a moon that hits my eye like a big pizza pie, I wonder, for a split second, if I am in Italy instead of Udaipur. A quick peek at my boarding pass-turned-bookmark confirms that I am not.
