My only consolation, as I now wonder what on earth I am going to put my Marmite on besides my finger, is that Mousie will have burst like a balloon with the amount he has eaten.
The only possible course for the ethical meat-eater is to accept that our diet, in common with so many other of our lifestyle choices, is a matter of what we feel comfortable with, and to leave it at that.
Grigson's recipes still have the power to surprise – God knows what readers in 1971 made of sushi with sweet beans – and her enthusiasm for her subject is utterly infectious.
It’s an all-you-can-eat buffet and soup kitchen combined.
In wine, the tendrils of power spread like well-nourished vines, wrapping around some surprising edifices.
I happened to walk into a shop near Richmond Park and found scores if not hundreds of withered and skinny dicks dangling from the ceiling.
Jam, not bombs.
The vegetarian movement has ground to a halt.
I’ve nothing against celebrated wines: enormous care and attention goes into their creation. Still, a little imagination is a heavenly thing.
A few years ago, the Great British Bun was in danger of extinction. Then, like a well-proofed dough, it rose again.
When it to comes to putting stuff in your mouth, only the spoon will do.
Why I hate the pathetic prescribed quirkiness of Ikea's new bed-based coffee house.
What does the success of the Féminalise Wine Competition tell us about wine and women?
elBulli's new project will "shift the paradigm" in molecular gastronomy.
Before I even got near the reds, I found myself thinking of a short story by Tolstoy, “How Much Land Does a Man Need?”.
Labour’s last straw was the “immigrants and benefits” scaremongering in one of its national leaflets. That’s not the party I joined. But it’s the party I left.
Despite all its associations, vinha d’alhos is a mongrel dish - and the fraught question of what we ought to drink needs an international answer.
In this week's Real Meals, Will Self resists the parliamentarian-endorsed temptations of a mainline skeuomorph.
There's some joy to be taken in the long lunch - as long as someone else is paying.
My eyes and my nose streamed, it felt like someone had stuck a red hot poker through both of my ears and my heart was dancing a fast polka in my chest, but I also felt weirdly euphoric.
Spain and Portugal may have settled their differences, but when it comes to grapes, it's not so simple.
Kelly Gissendaner, due to be the first woman executed by the US state of Georgia in 70 years, chose a feast of junk food for her last meal. Her selection has been pored over by the media – why?
If you know where to look, you can get a long way from virulent orange sauce and “chips, not rice”.
Lots of places claim to have the “perfect” pancake recipe – but here’s how to guarantee the best results. Maybe.
Buckets, bobsleds and a battery-powered bike.
It's a food Felicity Cloake has enjoyed since childhood. Now Paddington is helping to revive flagging marmalade sales.
I may be late to the party, but I am tough on ramekin – and on the causes of ramekin.
Nina Caplan drinks German wine and contemplates J M W Turner’s work on war.
In many ways, January diets are as self-indulgent as the Christmas binge.
Even I willingly acknowledge that the damage to the vineyards of Champagne was one of the lesser tragedies of the First World War.