My grandfather is dead: I do not know how to grieve. So I make bread.
My seasons are the seasons of church, although I am not religious, as a rule: my seasons are the seasons of school, which are the seasons of the Church of […]
I was at the sexual health clinic, and I was thinking about doughnuts.
I was at the sexual health clinic because my friend Caroline had asked me to go with her to acquire the morning-after pill. Everyone should have a friend who would invite them to the sexual health clinic, and everyone should have a friend who would go with them: Caroline is mine (both ways). So we were at the sexual health clinic, and we were thinking about doughnuts.
This is comfort food at its most simple: both in terms of taste, and in terms of process. It is so simple I almost think it’s silly to write a recipe, but perhaps you’ve had this kind of day, too, and perhaps you need a very simple, pretty nursery tea. Just right for a person cooking one-handed.
My friend Caroline wrote about how she will be at sixty-one, and I wrote about being eighty-six. When I am eighty-six I will eat broth from a bone china bowl: plump chicken poached slowly, drizzled with the very tiniest drops of white truffle oil, broccoli steamed with lemon and salt.
Something brisk and bright; something hearty and sturdy and warm. And something new: I had never made a curry paste before I made this. Something new and clean and comforting for a dark and unmoored evening. Something green. Green for go.
2014 was a horrible year, but it did have good eggs.
Here are my twelve favourite eggs of 2014-ish, and how to make them.