French toast to some this will always be eggy bread to me. I used to go on Brownie camp every year, and every year we would get eggy bread one morning for breakfast. Depending on your duty that morning you sometimes got to be the lucky one dipping slice after slice of bread ready to
Val has exited the tent. I realize that she was probably never going to win, but I did have a soft spot for her. I love that fact that baked from memory and challenged Paul “we like our Danishes a little soft in the middle in our house”. It also turns out that she makes
Ratatouille makes me think of my mum, and to be honest I’m not even sure why. I don’t think she made it much, as she isn’t a fan of tomatoes, but somehow thoughts of her are wrapped up in this dish. It’s strange how evocative food can be, how a taste can transport you. Pistachio
Pasta pesto makes me think of living in Hackney. Of taking the 55 bus home from work (because I couldn’t afford the tube). It reminds me of getting off the bus early at Diss St, picking up pesto, pasta & chilled coronas at the corner shop and going to see two beautiful friends. Their flat
There isn’t a recipe to post today because family life got in the way. I cook real time for this blog which means that Monday to Friday when the baby sleeps, or the mornings that she is at nursery, I cook something that is inspiring me. Then I serve it up, photograph it, upload the
Let’s Hang Out