Let me start with an uncomfortable truth: if you hate Brussels sprouts, you have never had them well-cooked. Or maybe you really hate them, like some people hate coriander, but…
I’m naturally a planner. It’s not that I can’t be spontaneous (although, actually, I probably can’t), but I like to be prepared. So if you’re wondering why I’m already concerning…
Like many adults in a relationship, I struggle to feed myself when I am on my own. When my partner is away, it takes very little for me to go…
I recently bought a book about food and wine and food pairings. By recently, I mean years ago, but as I am a compulsive book-buyer with an ever-growing backlog to…
We're ok messing with other people's food; we're unhappy if someone messes with our food. And as much as Italians are culprit of this, remember when the Brits kicked off because Americans though they had invented the sausage roll? So today I am going to mess with my own food.
Of course, this should really be called: where I ate in Seville, rather than where to eat in Seville. I have not, by all means, tried all (or most) restaurants…
Lao Cafe is adorable. Pale blue, with a stripped-down industrial-chic interior, a colourful mural, wooden benches in shades of brown and pastels. I first came across it in a review…
We started the meal with a mutton roll, a delicately spicy croquette filled with mutton meat, its pancake coating bright and crispy. Then an almost lacy dosa, a kaleidoscope of texture, soft and chewy and crispy, the batter a little tangy and nutty, to be dipped into sambar.
This is the second instalment of What I ate in Japan - read the first one here. After a spectacular rope-way trip over a volcanic valley, overlooking a bare mountain with thick steam rising from the surface, we made our way to our ryokan in Hakone, in the lush Japanese countryside.
