Food, Wine & Beverages

My mind is taking a break from Christmas preparations and has turned to another vernal delight, the picnic. Every year I promise myself a summer of wonderful picnics.

For well over a month now in shops and on television, in newspapers, magazines and junk mail I have been exhorted to get my act together for Christmas. Here we are less than a month away and I am still not ready for it.

I still like the idea of carving at the Christmas table; I think it adds to the sense of occasion with everybody there and waiting to enjoy the meal together.

Sometimes when I see those little jars and packets of dull and dusty dried herbs, like parsley flakes and basil, dill and chives, rubbed sage and mint or the little plastic packs of fresh herbs in the shops, I wonder why more people don't grow their own.

"If Naples had managed to patent pizza it would now be among the world's wealthiest cities…" wrote Burton Anderson in "Treasures of the Italian Table".

As I write this, Labour Weekend looms large and that means but one thing in this house…

We've reached that time of year when I find that the wonderful comfort food of winter is no longer as wonderful or comforting as it was.

In 1672 William Hughes, a physician to King Charles II, described it as "one of the most rare and pleasant fruits... It nourisheth and strengtheneth the body, corroborating the spirits and procuring lust exceedingly."

"All happiness depends on a leisurely breakfast." John Gunther, American journalist

The seeds I had found were brown mustard seeds or Brassica juncea, more potent than the white, that is sometimes called yellow, Sinapis alba; these two between them providing nearly all commercial mustard.