It is the deep, salty stickiness of food that intrigues me more than any other quality.

Food has been my career, my hobby, and, it must be said, my escape.

It must have been the lack of nutrients that gave my father his temper. He is not a sweet man despite a very sweet tooth.

Good kitchens are not about size; they are about ergonomics and light.

It is impossible not to love someone who makes toast for you.

Well let's face it, who on earth besides antique dealers and gay couples actually still give dinner parties?

I cannot go any further without mentioning my favourite biscuit of all time, now sadly, tragically, extinct. The oaty, crumbly, demerara notes of the long-forgotten Abbey Crunch will remain forever on my lips. I loved the biscuit as much as anything I have ever eaten, and often, in moments of solitude, I still think about its warm, buttery, sugary self.