mostly david ephgrave

I’ve been called many things in my lifetime, some of them libelous, but I’ve never been called a chef. I’d have been surprised if somebody had, if I’m honest, as my culinary knowledge is pretty limited. I’m not one of those people who tries to apply the ‘I can’t cook’ excuse, as that’s a cop-out. Anyone can do it. It’s a science. Follow a recipe and you can’t really go wrong. (Cut to a massive house-fire.) Despite the fact I’m not as ambitious at food preparation as I’d like to be, I do have a speciality, and that’s leek, bean and potato soup. It may only be this in that I’ve learnt the instructions – I didn’t invent them – but in a change to my usual internet bloggery, I thought I’d impart them to you (whoever you may be). Ingedients: ·       1 tsp olive oil ·       1 large clove of garlic, finely chopped ·       2 large leeks, washed and fin...

I just cooked some salmon for my dad. This shouldn’t have felt like a momentous occasion, but it did. A fanfare would have been appropriate. The meal was so successful. even the fish might have let out a little cheer - if it wasn’t dead and had vocal cords, that is. Making food for my dad hasn’t always been triumphant. We've had a chequered culinary past. The worst instance was during my early teens, when he taught me how to fry an egg. It was going well until I attempted to slide it from the pan onto the plate. A combination of stress and lack of confidence caused the egg to disappear down the paper-thin gap between the oven and the kitchen wall. It was never seen again. (We laughed a lot .) Thankfully, no part of today’s meal went astray. The transition from baking tray to plate was textbook. My dad was impressed by the results. I think I may finally exorcised the demon of the missing egg. Perhaps it'll be discover...