I've always worked unusual shift patterns, which mean I get days off in the week. At least one of those is a cooking day, where I cogitate over a bubbling pot of deliciousness. Those days are gone.
Continue reading A quick way with chicken for a weekday meal.
I love food. I love writing. Why shouldn't the two mix?
Continue reading Return Of The Fodderblog: Cauli Mac And Cheese
There are beer festivals. And then there are beer festivals.
Continue reading Tale of the Ale: X&HT Visited The Robin Hood Beer Festival
In a tiny, ten-seat restaurant tucked into an unprepossessing corner of Tokyo's Ginza Metro station, a man called Jiro is quietly making the best sushi in the world.
Continue reading That Perfect Morsel: X&HT Saw Jiro Dreams Of Sushi
As the cold weather hits, I start to think about autumn food, and tweak my go-to dishes accordingly.
In the unlikely event that I ever make it onto Desert Island Discs, there’s one decision with which I would struggle massively. Not the music – a heady mix of northern soul, chiming indie rock and squelchy electronica. Sod that one book nonsense – I’d be taking a Kindle fully loaded with William Gibson, Ray Bradbury and Kurt Vonnegut.
It would be the luxury item that would give me pause. Although the notion of a fast satellite uplink feeding a hot-rodded MacBook Pro appeals, I think in the end I’d have to plump for a rice cooker.
It would hardly be the most mind-boggling revelation to say that the French love their food. It’s intertwined in the culture, part of the national psyche. The French get food at a pure, primal level. In the UK we’ve come along in leaps and bounds in our understanding and appreciation of good food in the past twenty years. I’d argue that English cheese has the better of la fromage francaise, and there’s no such thing as a decent French pork pie. But food and eating are an intrinsic part of French daily life, and our weekend in Montpellier gave us quite a few different examples of that fact.
If, like me, you enjoy a nice ale from time to time, then the question of the perfect session beer has come up more than once in conversation. If, like me, you’re a wine and spirits drinker, then you probably have no idea what I’m on about. Allow me, dear Readership, to enlighten you.
The Christmas decorations never last for long after New Year’s Day at X&HTowers. We never see the point in hanging about. Saturnalia is finished for another season, and there are things to be done. Yesterday was spent getting the house straight, and ourselves ready for the return to work.
A busy day, then, and a good meal was needed once the tinsel and tree were back in the loft. The eating would be simple and sustaining. There’s no point in trying to diet in the New Year. There are still too many treats hanging around. We have an untouched panetonne and a cupboard full of sweeties ready and waiting to blow any foolhardy resolutions right out of the water. But the rich dinners can be scaled back to something less epic, a little more nurturing.
My chile plant was very late off the mark this year, flowering merrily all through the summer, but not fruiting until the cusp of Halloween.
I left it as late as I could before harvest, wanting to get as much as I could from this unexpected late bonus. So it was that I gathered them in just two days before the frosts hit.
It’s been my best haul ever, and gave me enough to dry off and last TLC and I through the winter. Bringing a glow and a tingle to winter stews and casseroles.
I took a snap before they went into the oven. I love the waxy brightness of a fresh chili, and I’m happy with these jalapeños. Even if they did leave me hanging around for a while.
Christmassy colours, doncha think?
EXCUSES AND HALF TRUTHS 