This could be a story about how when we went to Portugal we ate terrific piri piri chicken. It would be one of those blog posts. Like the holiday facebook album of people you were once close to, you’ll probably skim through, and click away with a sniff of disapproval (how in the heck do …
boy food
These are eggs that deserve a party. Yet brunch gatherings aren’t always easy or fun. They’re often the domain of people with small children – the ones trying to maintain the social life they once had, before the nap times of tiny creatures cannibalised their day. They’re for me nine years ago, playing house with …
A gratin (or plain old potato bake if you prefer) is the edible equivalent of a pair of sweat pants you can wear down to the shops. It’s lazy and relaxed, yet also manages to be just smart enough for company (as opposed to pyjamas). It’s a glorious muddle of dairy and white stodge, gussied …
This is childhood comfort, wrapped in a swaddle of filo pastry. It’s food for crummy days spent cleaning out cupboards and trying to persuade your scanner to work. It’s also perfect for when you remember that part of moving involves defrosting the freezer. I’m not sure about you, but it’s a dark exploration in there. …
There’s a potato salad that’s sold at the supermarket near our flat in London. It haunts me at night; gloopy with mayonnaise, thickened by an alphabet soup of letters that make up stabilisers. The potato seems floury, cubes of bland pap held together by starch and a little sadness. There are speckles of colour through …
