In Praise of Spaghetti Bolognese
I used to work as a chef in a chain Italian restaurant. I took the whole chef thing very seriously, and was very snooty about the whole thing.
I used to work as a chef in a chain Italian restaurant. I took the whole chef thing very seriously, and was very snooty about the whole thing.
Can we all just strap on a pair and grow up about grains? There has been too much hype, too much over-promotion, about grains as “superfoods”: they’re just great to eat.
I love words; I love music; I love to cook. I also, kind of, like recipes where they are written as something to read, not purely as some kind of technical document. They’re entertaining, no?
I was wearing shorts and sandals, and a big sheet of plastic. I looked massively ridiculous and I did not care.
A poster on the bus advertised the heats for the local yodelling festival. Not the festival itself, but the pre-competition to allow people to apply for the competition itself.
Each night I would pore over guide books, plotting routes all over the city, hoping to pluck up the courage to make my way in to any one of the eateries that I aspired to get in to. There was no barrier but my own insecurity.
As you can see from the title, this is very much a repeat. But the point still remains: I don’t have many friends, and I never really have.
Learning something well means that you finally become able to properly improvise; at least as far as I understand it.
Sushi isn’t the only food to have come out of Japan. But it took sushi restaurants to show me that.
I suppose it started off as the thought of me being on some kind of competitive cookery show, where I am cooking at home and, unbeknownst to me, I am being monitored by a bunch of chefs from behind a bank of monitors.
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