So, it seems we’ve graduated to sprouts. In the scheme of ‘Forty weeks of feasting’ (and yes, for those who missed it, there’s an even hungrier one on the way), we’ve moved past the diminutive stages of seeds and pulses, grapes and dates. Now it appears that I’m harbouring a sprout and it’s now …
side dishes
Let’s be frank about something. Brussel sprouts have a reputation problem. Most of the time they’re over steamed or boiled, which leaves them with all of the appeal of a soggy sports sock. This would probably be the time where I’d invoke some dry little anecdote about the brussel sprouts from my youth. Except they …
At many tables in the following week across the world; this will play out. There’s a group coming around for dinner. It’s festive. Which means everyone should play nicely. In my past life, I spent two and a half years hunched in cold lecture theatres and over a laptop so I could get a …
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 …
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 …
