Ethnicity is an interesting thing. People are often eager to dredge up exotic influences. Most are genuine, and some are more tenuous. Recently a guy I know claimed to have French blood. “It came across with William” they said. “William who?” I asked. “Well, the Conqueror” they drawled. Dubious.…
This is the simplest of simple pickles. So simple, it doesn’t really require its own blog post. But hell, it’s such a great go-to recipe that I thought I’d give it one any way. Interestingly, I didn’t think there was that much about this pickle, (because a pickle’s a pickle’s a pickle, right?) but both my flatmates asked me to make it time and time again, so there’s clearly something in it.…
A remarkable thing happened this weekend. I killed an animal. Now let me say straight off - I have nothing whatsoever against the killing of animals. Just as long as it isn’t me who has to do it.
Indeed, many times I’ve been a accomplice when it comes to the killing of things that run or fly or swim. After all, I am a voracious meat eater, so it would be hypocritical not to show at least a keen interest. I’ve whooped encouragingly if somebody pops-off a rabbit, and have enthusiastically beaten birds towards somebody wielding a gun - licking my lips at the thought of supper.…
Hello – I'm Rachel Walker – food writer and cook. I live in East London with my very tolerant husband, who is often alarmed to find pig trotters or brining lamb tongues floating in the fridge.
