The home of hungry readers
How impressed I was, I remember well; impressed and a little overawed by the magnificence of the breakfast offered to us. (Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca)
I sometimes think breakfast is my favourite meal. Not breakfast as I eat it on workdays at home – my daily unvarying routine of porridge in the winter months and muesli and yoghurt in the summer – but breakfast at weekends or other occasions when I have time to lavish on it. Continue reading “Breakfast”
‘So that’s settled, isn’t it?’ he said, going on with his toast and marmalade; ‘instead of being companion to Mrs Van Hopper you become mine, and your duties will be almost exactly the same.’ (Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca)
We often associate marriage proposals with food: candlelit dinners in quiet restaurants, classical music playing in the background and a bottle of champagne at the ready. Continue reading “A Marriage Proposal”
‘It is a French recipe of my grandmother’s,’ said Mrs Ramsay, speaking with a ring of great pleasure in her voice. Of course it was French. What passes for cookery in England is an abomination (they agreed). (Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse)
Without a doubt I owe France a huge culinary debt. When I recall my cross-Channel excursions, my memories are more often than not food-related: crispy baguettes, pungent cheeses, flaky buttery croissants, rich earthy cassoulets, gently quivering tarte au citron… I could go on and on.
Not only has the eating of French food caused me great pleasure, but so too has the making of it. I’ve had a great time learning to make baguettes, croissants, pain au chocolat and hollandaise sauce at La Cuisine Paris, a cookery school in the heart of Paris by the river and around the corner from the Hotel de Ville – I really need to pay them another visit! Continue reading “The Delights of French Food”
Next morning they would go over the dishes – the soup, the salmon; the salmon, Mrs Walker knew, as usual underdone, for she always got nervous about the pudding and left it to Jenny; so it happened, the salmon was always underdone. (Virginia Woolf, Mrs Dalloway)
However much I love cooking – or perhaps because I love it so much – I often get anxious when cooking, particularly when cooking for others. Will there be enough food? Will my guests like it? Will it be perfectly cooked, perfectly seasoned? Will I impress as a cook? Continue reading “The Anxious Cook”