I had no intention of staying in Rome, I’d spend a month at language school before taking myself and my newly acquired command of the Italian language back to Palermo to continue my demented no...
Always one for too much of a good thing, I was tempted to make another batch of gnocchi with the remaining half of my green mound. An absence of ricotta put an end to that idea. An absence of milk ne...
‘When buying spinach‘ Jane Grigson reminds us ‘Assess its liveliness, it should have a bouncing, bright appearance‘ and ‘As you stuff it into your bag or basket it shoul...
In January last year, two important things happened. Firstly I discovered I was pregnant and secondly, I began spending my Sundays with Mona. I’d first met Mona a couple of years before. My fri...
It’s been seven years, almost to the day, since I absconded to Italy. Rash, wayward and troubling it may have been, but my departure in March 2005 was, and remains, one of the better decisions ...
If I had to keep just one cookbook, it would be a red hardback wrapped in a bright blue sleeve with a lobster on the front, a single volume which comprises three of Elizabeth David’s classics o...
My little niece Beattie tasted cream for the first time this christmas. Her eyes widened as she spooned the lactic loveliness into her little mouth. ‘It’s called Cream‘ my sister ex...
True to form, I’m late! But not too late I hope, to wish you all a very Happy New Year, Buon anno and - raise your shot of vodka - szczęśliwego nowego roku. Lets hope it’s a good one, or ...
1. (noun) ciambella [tʃambɛl:a ] dolce a forma circolare con buco al centro This can’t go on for much longer. I mean it’s fine once in a while, once a week even, but not every single morni...
As much as I like long Italian summers and as much as I relish preparing summer food, I feel – and look – decidedly more at home in autumn: probably my favorite time of year to cook. Test...
Luca was born in time for lunch on the 14th of September. He is, as my sister Rosie would say, a bonny boy. I am feeling deeply unqualified for this truly wondrous but frankly bewildering job. Luca h...
Before I talk about Almond and lemon cake, I need to tell you something. Actually that’s not true, I don’t need to tell you anything, I could just continue with the blog and not mention t...
After my three-month hiatus: an overcooked goulash of endings, beginnings and strange middles over seasoned with excuses, sabotage and a big glug of procrastination, I think I owe it to you, and myse...
If everything had gone according to plan I wouldn’t be here. I’d be unpacking boxes in my freshly painted new flat, borrowing cups of milk from my new neighbours and generally looking pra...
I first ate fave e pecorino – young broad beans, still in their pods so you can peel them yourself, eaten with chunks of the salty, robust ewes milk cheese Pecorino Romano – at the tratto...
Rather like fresh pea and asparagus season, my stay back here at via Mastro Giorgio 81 will be brief. In both cases: green spring vegetables and Rachel, brevity is best. Best for the vegetables becau...
One of my current edible preoccupations is with small oblong rolls of buttery mashed potato, dipped in beaten egg and breadcrumbs, fried until golden brown texture like sun and consumed while extreme...
You’ve probably noticed I’m limping along here! Or maybe you haven’t. Either way, a rather belated but heartfelt Happy New Year to you all. In the words of John Lennon ‘Lets h...
I find it virtually impossible to even look at a pumpkin without thinking about a friend of mine doing an impression of Elvis Costello and singing (I use the term singing in the broadest possible sen...
The other morning, having grumbled, for the fifth day in a row, my way through breakfast about the coffee – lavazza might be Italy’s favourite but it isn’t mine - some teaching I ...
A few weeks ago, while held hostage by a budget airline and their inevitable delays, and trapped in an early morning departure lounge purgatory at Stanstead airport, I found myself – yet again ...
To France. We plan to stop in Pisa for Cecina and then Genova to eat Le Trofie al Pesto Genovese with Matteo before hitting the Cote d’Azur on Thursday, in time for my best friends wedding. Mea...
If you approach Testaccio market from Via Aldo Manuzio and enter through the large gap – it’s not really an entrance as such, more an opening – opposite La Bottega delle idee and be...
As I write this, I’m thinking about my younger sister Rosie and my bother-in-law Paul, who thanks to Paul’s transformation into a veritable Monty Don, have a vegetable patch full, I mean ...
I am my father’s daughter when it comes to breakfast. We both like the exceptions: a croissant, steaming porridge, full English, a bacon butty with brown sauce, two boiled eggs with toast soldi...
My reward for assuming gardening duties while my parents are away hiking enthusiastically over Swiss mountains, is the little feast I get to pick each day. I say gardening duties, that’s probab...
My second name, after my granny, is Alice. The Italian for anchovy is acciuga or alice. I was devoted to anchovies long before I came to Italy. When I say anchovies, I am of course talking about pres...
Vincenzo thinks I was a deprived child. He’s right of course, I was deprived – growing up, as I did, in a small town just outside London in the late 1970′s – of the full taste...
I have a great friend called Romla. We’ve known each other 15 years now. Since the day she roared into the forecourt of The Drama Center London on monster sports bike in full, skin-tight leathe...
It’s too darn hot. Well it is for me anyway. Vincenzo on the other hand is delighted by the soaring temperatures and assumes the Gecko position whenever possible. Such unreasonable weather howe...
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