I lived for many years in Spain and I don’t remember ever having a discussion about potatoes. In the UK, though, I’ve discovered that they are a perfectly valid topic for conversation.
Back in the day, there was a joke about the girl potato whose father forbade her to marry Eamonn Andrews – presenter of Sports Report on BBC’s Light Programme – because he was “only a commentator.” Continue reading “the joy of spuds”
I have always enjoyed travelling. Not necessarily because I want to get somewhere in particular, but for the simple joy of the journey: the “time between places” when, particularly if you travel alone and on public transport, you can duck out of life and be someone else entirely.
Chance encounters in the buffet car, casual conversations that crop up between complete strangers, momentary glimpses of other people’s lives, things seen from train windows – and, as in the photo above, sometimes even the trains themselves in their festive glad rags. Continue reading “something for the journey”
With their pristine kitchens and artfully messy family rooms, IKEA homes always make me feel inadequate. Somehow the simple storage solutions aren’t enough to help me keep my house in order, though I admit that’s my problem, not theirs.
Still, there doesn’t seem much hope that spending a small fortune on stackable storage units and designer drawers will improve matters, so when I picked up a copy of the catalogue, rather than thumbing through and compiling a wish-list, I stopped to ponder the cover, which in itself provides a host of images to question and wonder at. Continue reading “food for thought”
One of the basic foods that I miss when in Spain is bread.
They do eat plenty of bread here, but it’s mostly white – a sort of faux baguette – and has no more flavour than I would expect from cotton wool or cardboard.
Other than the incredibly expensive pan artesano on sale in the village square some Saturdays, there is, however, one type of bread here that I like.
Since I buy it at the cut-price supermarket, perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s cooked from frozen dough rather than made on the premises. It’s labelled as pan 6 cereales – six cereal bread. I was a little taken aback, though, when I read the ingredients list more closely: Continue reading “a little bit of this…”
Clearly the world is too much with me as this is the first post in a week and, like the last one, it is based on reality.
I’ve been wondering what has prompted this recent fixation with taking pictures of a meal before eating it.
Why, once a meal is on the table – particularly a special meal, where extra effort has been put into the preparation and a delay may have a more than usually detrimental effect – would anyone decide to dash off and find a camera to immortalise the moment?
I’ve seen it happen on a number of occasions recently, and each time the focus of the photograph has been the food rather than the people present.
When I cook, I’d rather the guests sat down and ate while the meal was hot and fresh, than spent so long admiring the visual effect that it all got cold. Maybe I’m just more of a gourmand than a gourmet.