Orechiette with brocolli rabe pesto, at Babbo

There he was, sitting behind us in all of his orange-croc wearing-glory. I trust Mario Batali to know a good spot to eat lunch. And if it just happens to be his own restaurant in the West Village, then I’m fine with that. Batali’s Babbo in December is a Christmas cliche brought to life. It’s carols and Bing Crosby, a towering pine in the centre of the surprisingly intimate dining room and twinkle lights a plenty.

The four course lunch tasting menu is a sound way to dissolve yourself of responsibility of plucking through the hearty Italian menu. Put yourself in Mario’s large hands. The …

Greetings from New York.

Two hours into the three hour queue to get through immigration at JFK (giving a new definition to tired and huddled masses) I was reconsidering why we were coming to New York the week before Christmas.

It’s cold. There’s a sort of aggression that claws to the bottom of your boots in this city. And this island can occasionally be a bit of a seething mass of humanity. And then I remembered. Friends, and food.

On Saturday one of my oldest and best friends took us on an eating crawl of Brooklyn. It was, the best of days. Here’s a sneak peak of how to eat spectacularly in Brooklyn …