Food, Wine & Beverages

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.

I was blessed by having two grandmothers and a great aunt who had all been professional cooks. As a child, when my mother was working late, it was to one or other of these lovely ladies that I would be sent for my dinner.

"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.

All right! I give in! Only no more, please, no more! It's not that I don't enjoy cooking programmes, I do and have loved them since the days of Philip Harben…sorry, New Zealand…Graham Kerr; it's just the endless MasterChefs.

I love bread. I am never so happy as when there is good bread at hand, whether to enjoy with some mature cheese or to wipe up the last traces of a beautiful sauce; to break into my soup or even to toss in a salad.