Carrots and blood oranges on toast, with a little essay about spring and being by myself.
I am very slowly remembering how to cook. I am very slowly trying to organise my life again; to clean the kitchen and hang out laundry and get to bed […]
An aubergine dip thing: salty, smoky, a little sweet, a little rich, a little sharp. And quick, and so absurdly easy! So absurdly easy I felt a little guilty for writing this recipe up like this, but I am trying to leave all my guilt and stress and grief in the lockers and write and swim without it. Just for a while. So here we are: an aubergine dip. We ate it spread on flatbreads with some spring onion, and it was beautiful. Just right for early damp summer.
I am two sorts of cook all at once: fanatical, dedicated, obsessive, and simultaneously extraordinarily lazy. I don’t like prep. I don’t like chopping. I don’t like the boring bits. […]
A pie with apples, and cheese, and biscuits, and butter, and some good stories, and some Seamus Heaney, and an unexpected August storm.
There is nothing better than a good knead when everything is dreadful. Pounding the soul out of a ball of dough is almost as satisfying as pummelling the soul out […]
Outside it’s very dark, and this is the brightest, cleanest, newest supper. I’ve been reading a lot of Mary Poppins: I think she’d approve of how pink this dish is. Pink as lollipops, as Michael Banks would say- pink, purple, silver and gold. And very good for you, also.