Felicity Cloake is the New Statesman’s food columnist. Her latest book is The A-Z of Eating: a Flavour Map for Adventurous Cooks.
A feast for the eyes: but the best cookbooks are about more than just beautiful photographs.
It’s a national handicap: a survey a couple of years ago claimed that 38 per cent of us would never complain at a restaurant, however bad our experience.
The slight lip around the edge is no mere bourgeois affectation; it keeps the food contained in its proper place.
Let it rot, and keep your little microbes happy.
Summer is the time for wolfing down crayfish on the coast in Sweden.
Keep things streamlined on the food front, so as to leave more room on the rug for important stuff, such as people.
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.
Jam, not bombs.
A few years ago, the Great British Bun was in danger of extinction. Then, like a well-proofed dough, it rose again.
The fact is, eating often does unflattering things to the face. Far better to follow Thatcher's example and steer clear.