I loathe rye bread. Really, truly do not understand it.
Two years ago, Sam and I visited Siena on holiday. And since then, Siena has been my favourite place in the world.
Lately, I have dreamt in custard. Lying in bed last night, I could have sworn I could smell the faint boozy hum of vanilla, the richness of eggs and cream. It’s not surprising. Over the last month, custard and I have become pretty well – if… Read More
It may seem churlish to find a problem with cranachan; as if I’m trawling perfecty acceptable British classics, and picking holes in them. But I promise you this isn’t change for change’s sake.
I have become obsessed with tiny kitchen miracles: little, unassuming, simple recipes, that for whatever reason become so much greater than the sum of their parts. A paltry number of ingredients that give way to deliciousness or complexity that almost defies reason. This shortbread is… Read More
Is it possible for silly little bunny-shaped biscuits with fluffy tails to be elegant? Probably not. But I’m confident that this is the closest we’ll ever get.