We’re over halfway through week nine of lockdown. At the beginning of all this, my search history reflected what was going on in my life, and presumably, lots of other people’s too. “Where can I buy strong bread flour?” (Nowhere, was the answer, but my husband discovered that 00 pizza flour made an acceptable substitute). “Where can I buy yeast?”
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I now declare this book open
If you’d told me at the end of last year that come May 2020, I would regularly hurl myself into the path of traffic while wearing a snazzy face mask, I would have laughed in, or near your face. Had you predicted that my last major social event would be a trip to Southampton to see my sister and her family while struggling with a cold of epic proportions, I would have been surprised.
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A quick spin around the ingredients, Clive
I’m the proud owner of three battered cookery books which I count as amongst my most precious possessions. One of them is signed by the author. They’re cookery books, but they are also beautifully written statements of intent. In their own way, they started a revolution. Their author was unlike anyone who had ever gone before, and I’d contend that no-one since has ever been quite like him.
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Digging for Victory
Yesterday morning, enjoying a restorative cup of tea after doing the daily mountain of washing up with the partner of all my joys and sorrows, he enquired what I was writing about this week. “Floyd, Stein and all those chefs I used to know,” I replied. “But it’s VE Day on Friday – what about that?” Quick as a wink, I changed horses in mid-stream, like a young gazelle leaping from crag to crag, very nearly tripping myself up on the similes and metaphors piling up all around me.
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