Real food meas big-flavoured, unpretentious cooking. Good ingredients made into something worth eating. Just nice, uncomplicated food.

It is impossible not to love someone who makes toast for you....Once the warm, salty butter has hit your tongue, you are smitten. Putty in their hands.

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

There is too much talk of cooking being an art or a science – we are only making ourselves something to eat.

Almost anything is edible with a dab of French mustard on it.

British food is a celebration of comfort eating. Our traditional savoury recipes are all about warmth and sustenance, our puddings a roll call of sweet jollity, our cakes are deep and cosy. We appear to be a nation in need of a big, warm hug.

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