I have a weakness for desserts. That weakness is that I’m not very good at making many of them. Like a lot of men, given the choice, I would survive on lumps of protein (although in my case I’m likely to make a hollandaise to go with my grilled salmon).
During a recent family visit to New York City, the best meals I ate were my brother Henry’s slow-cooked barbecues. Henry is a master of indirect heat who cooks such unlikely items as whole chickens, short ribs and breast of lamb.
Perhaps for the first time in human history, the ability to cook is no longer an essential survival skill.
There are so many ready meals and takeaway options that the ability to remove a hot container from a microwave without burning your hands (not as easy as it sounds) are the only techniques you need to master.
A t some point during an alcohol-fuelled evening out with friends, a man’s thoughts inevitably turn to shwarma — the Middle Eastern version of the Turkish doner kebab, which has become ubiquitous in Israel.
When you bite into your next chunky Kit Kat or bar of Green and Blacks, be thankful for Medieval Jewish foodies.
According to Rabbi Deborah Prinz, it was Jews who first brought chocolate to Europe. Her findings are now explained in a fascinating book entitled On the Chocolate Trail.
My dad was no cook. He needed precise instructions about oven temperature, pre-heating and preparation before he even attempted to bake a potato. However, in his 50s, he decided it might be a nice idea to bake a loaf of bread. This was a big jump for someone who had difficulty boiling an egg, but he duly found a recipe and baked a loaf — and it tasted quite nice.