If there’s one European cuisine that knows its way around every part of the pig, it’s Spanish. Chorizo. Jamón. Morcilla. Lomo. Cocido. Butifarra. Chistorra. Cochinillo. The list goes on. After all, it was Andalucia, not Aberdeen or Amsterdam, which coined the phrase ‘you only part of a pig you can’t eat is its squeal’. ButRead More
The brain’s a funny old thing. Absolute catnip to your shuffling zombie of course, though these days the ponderous, twitching gait is now no longer the undead’s sole locomotion of choice. Today’s voguish cadavers have a turn of speed which would shame an athlete. For what it’s worth, I’m in the Romero camp. But theRead More
This blog is a very simple thing.
I won’t try to sell you any hand lotion, exercise programmes, coffee syrups or Patagonian nose flutes. You won’t find tips on dating, ‘wellness’ or yoga mats.
I write because I love it (and food, as indicated by my increasing girth). Greed happens to be my Deadly Sin of choice, but at least it is never shy of providing me with subject matter.
A simple thing, then: all you get is me wittering on semi-coherently about places I’ve eaten at; hence a ‘restaurant blog’ rather than a ‘food blog’, although there are a few recipes scattered throughout.
From mezze to Michelin ‘fine dining’ and all points in between.