A Soho sausage
Amid the shortcuts and alleys, the bright lights and dark doorways Soho still exists. At least a kind of Soho that is a familiar memory. There…
Wild garlic butter
We sat down to supper, the children just having gone to bed. They were supposed to be asleep, yet by the volume of giggling wafting downstairs…
Rouille of fortune
It’s a rare occasion that sees me pass a merguez sausage without buying it. Many a night, in the back streets of Toulouse after a hard…
Ham and green lentils
The warm smell of cooking as you get in from school is like a blanket covering you on the sofa in winter or a hot chocolate…
Haricot again on my own
Now the Christmas tree has been cut up and put in the bin by the dead of night and the year gently settles into itself, I…
Hidden gems
The half term holidays are over and Noah and Maya have been pressed, polished and painted and sent back to school looking less like stig-of-the-dump and…
Rice to the occasion
“I quite like them” said Noah after he’d eaten half an arancini and left the rest on the kitchen bench, wandering off to then hole…
On the lamb
There is a Roald Dahl short story whereby a wronged wife clonks her husband on the head with a frozen lamb leg and renders him dead.…
Scotch egg? You’re in luck, now.
The petrol station. Where food goes to die. This is why people think badly of Scotch eggs, although, thankfully there has been a little positive renaissance…
Ooh, The Cheek Of It.
The slow change from vivid green to red, yellow, orange. And then how quickly the trees become bare and the glorious colours give way to brown and grey…
