Category Archives: raspberries
darkly sweetly madly…..
” …we’re in the soup” ” in a bit of a stew” “there are too many cooks” “the salt has lost its savour” “it only takes one rotten apple” “our goose is well and truly cooked”. Being that the cooking … Continue reading
on having and eating cake…
A very depressing aphorism suggests that one cannot have one’s cake and eat it which seems contradictory to me as the sole chance of eating one’s cake is indeed to have it, if only for that short time until it has … Continue reading
lunch: a user’s manual..
Let me be clear, I don’t give a flying fuck if Marie Antoinette said brioche, chelsea buns or if she said bugger all…I’m saying it now…”let them eat cake”. In particular, let them eat this cake. Amaretti biscuits have always been … Continue reading
on doing one’s duty …
Whenever I hear of duty and the honour bestowed on those who, when called to it, perform it without question, I am whisked back to a much earlier time when, early each morning, I was to be found perched on a … Continue reading
It’s all Greek….
As a teenager, still at boarding school, we boys were granted the occasional opportunity to experience or, more precisely, to observe, the seedier side of the fleshpots of London. This was not the intention of our educators but occurred as a by … Continue reading
Treasure Island…..
A slight movement in my peripheral vision caused me to stop writing and to look down. The tiny worker bee, instead of taking advantage of its wings, was wearily trudging across an endless terrain of boulders, which is the gravel … Continue reading
Fire up the de Lorean….
We arrived home without the expected three explosive flashes that accompany the moment of return from voyages back to the future. The sharp intake of breath as we entered our glacial stone house created more of a whimper than a bang. … Continue reading
Putting my fingers in my ears and going “la,la,la…..”
My mind is warming up at the same slow rate as the bathroom, less concerned with writing than with steeling itself for the discomfort from frozen hands that will surely come with the imminent and essential cutting of fire wood. … Continue reading
The unbearable lightness of sponge….
The winsome Nigella, if winsome is the word, has never been high on my list of favourite cookery writers. Perfectly formed and polished to a high shine she glides like an iceberg, only the top third of her ever visible, … Continue reading
A loving spoonful…
A spoonful of outrageous sensuality, colour and texture which, for me, reduces the artfully minimalist confections of the Noma-Bulli school to joyless tours de main. Maybe I have missed the point but I have never found the unduly careful arrangement of food … Continue reading