Emergency Chicken

Pic: Catherine Grassin Hart

If you follow me on social media you’ll know that I’m finally getting my long-promised cookery school off the ground, hurrah! Planning the courses is enormously satisfying. So is testing them on my long-suffering friends and guinea pigs (see left: I’m not telling you what we were laughing about).

Writing legal requirements like terms and conditions and privacy and cookies policies is less exhilarating. They’re now in the hands of a solicitor for what he rather hilariously and all too aptly calls a sanity check.

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Pomegranate Poussins

There’s something pathetically froggy about spatchcocked poussins but my word, they taste good and they cook a lot faster, staying deliciously juicy. They make a fabulous supper and a very good dinner party dish. Minimum effort, maximum flavour. Continue reading

Hail, Caesar!

Image of statue of Caesar Augustus

Picture: Till Niermann

Supposedly, triumphant Roman emperors and/or generals had a slave riding behind them at victory parades, whispering in their ears words to the effect of ‘remember you are mortal’ or ‘glory passes’. History suggests most were deaf to the hints. Continue reading

Lebanese Seven Spice Chicken

Sometimes you come home, look in the fridge and think ‘I just can’t be bothered, let’s get a takeaway’. Or in my case, with no restaurants willing to deliver to the Suffolk outback, settle for beans on toast. Reader, this could be our salvation. Continue reading

Guinea Fowl Lasagne

I can’t pretend this is a quick meal to make, but I can promise it’s worth the effort. Guinea fowl is a delicious meat, with a full flavour like you imagine the very best chicken will have but which it so rarely does. It is robust enough to stand up to the red wine in the ragù recipe here.

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Irish Times

Image of view from kitchen sink

This has been my kitchen sink for the past 10 days. The view actually belongs to an old friend, Andy, a man with a sense of humour I have always treasured. When I once got the push from a job, he gave me a clock as a leaving present. Inscribed on the back was ‘tempus fuckit’.  Continue reading