There was a particular little shop that used to exist on almost every French street corner, and although most of them have quietly disappeared, their ghosts remain if you are lucky enough to spot one. You will be walking through some entirely ordinary town or village, when your eye drifts upwards and catches an old façade, it's painted signage faded and faint, but sure enough - perhaps above a mobile phone shop, an estate agent or some other high street blandness, you will se

I am a sucker for things that are not really traditional food parings. I mean I love things that do go together - fish and chips, buttered toast, and cream on jam, but I do like a new challenge. Enter, Roquefort & Honey Ice Cream. Found on a menu at a not-very-posh bistro in the stunning town of Sant Malo. There were clearly less challenging flavours on offer, and I could very much have made a far more vanilla choice, but something about it made me want to dive headlong into

It's hot here. The sort of heat that suggests any kind of movement is a bad idea. Last night I sat in the pitch-black kitchen, with the fridge door open. It was not as effective as I would have liked. It was like being interrogated by the faint smell of Melon. Now then, if we played a word association game, and I said "Summer".. chances are someone would respond "Ice Cream". It is a horse-and-carriage relationship. A friendly rebellion against the sun - saying "OK if you want

If there is one subject guaranteed to unite humanity, it is the weather. We simply cannot stop discussing it. It doesn't matter whether you're in Paris, Perth, or Pyongyang, "weather chat" is the small talk of choice. The ice-breaker, the introduction. The attempt to bash down the barrier of language, and a chance to stand on some familiar, common ground, where souls that collide in the far-flung corners or our little blue rock, can meet on the level. And what better leveller

Like many British people, I came to goat's cheese quite late in life. I mean, when I was a kid, you could order fruit juice as a starter in a fairly posh restaurant... yes, children, it was once thus. Anyway, in our house, goats didn't produce cheese, cows did. And they made it all in a place called Cheddar. Britain in the seventies, was not a place where food was discussed with any particular reverence. It came either hot, or cold. Cold was for lunch, hot was for dinner. Bre

There is a very sober, serious show on the BBC called "Panorama". It covers studious subjects, in great depth and head-nodding sincerity. On April 1st, 1957, Panorama ran a segment calmly informing the British public that spaghetti grew on trees. Literally. It showed a group of Swiss farmers (you might think that would have been a red flag..) harvesting strands of air-dried spaghetti from the low hanging branches of, well...a Spaghetti Tree. The BBC, certainly then and I thin

February 14th arrives with its familiar gestures of ribbon-wrapped chocolates and things to do, just for two. Everywhere you look, love is presented as something to be given, something to be received, something that must come from somewhere outside of self. But what if this year, you made the decision, that love was going to dress a little differently? Oscar Wilde wrote "To love yourself is the beginning of a life-long romance". He had a point, you know. What if the most mea

Red roses. Valentine’s Day. Floral messaging that has no room for manoeuvre or misconstrue. Important, perhaps becasue our February 14th intentions need to be absolutely legible. Our designs and desires must have clarity and meaning. The red rose then, is a comfortably predictable symbol, bought and sold by the dozen. In fact, 250 million red roses are produced globally, for this day alone. Beautiful, classic, fully unmistakable. Even if we feel that a red rose is actually st

OK, so firstly, we Brits did not know that Groundhog Day was actually a thing. It is a real event. In Pennsylvania, every February. To us, it still looks like a punchline that somehow escaped the joke. A fluffy, tired animal is lifted from its burrow, consulted about the future, and returned to its warm den, while a crowd applauds politely and then heads off to CostCo.

“Take a deep breath". ..It ’s rarely said before something pleasant. We say it before the needle goes in. Before "the conversation". Before the bill arrives. Before we brace ourselves for "the good news or the bad news" and anything else we supsect we won't enjoy at all. It’s a phrase that assumes impact. A small hand-on-the-shoulder, before something uncomfortable happens. Which is curious, when you think about it. Because breathing deeply is one of the most beneficial thing

There is a moment most of us recognize, even if we don’t yet have words for it. It comes before the decision. Before the plan. Before the next chapter announces itself clearly enough to be named. It’s a life-affirming moment, where nothing is technically wrong, and yet something quietly asks for attention. It's a space that needs to be filled. Not with added responsibilities or new hobbies, but with gentle, wholehearted purpose. Soulstice Immersion, September 26 - October 10

Many of us tend to have a dim view of February. It really does seem to be the black sheep of our calendar. Short-changed on day numbers, an awkward ending to the cadence of that rhyme to remember - "30 days hath November" - it feels like the month that also ran - the racing term for runners and riders that were not really worth a real mention.But let's forgive the slightly gawky floundering of February. It was never a month designed to feel like such a fly in the hearty, w

Turns out this photo is a fake, by the way... Even though if it did fool the folks at Forbes magazine, but... that's OK. It says what I want to say, AI or not. It's a picture that "shows" French farmers protesting in Paris. They are there, by the way - as I type - with tractors and trailers, and even sheep, lining the grand Avenues and Boulevards of the Nations capital, hosing down Government buildings with the occasional muck-spreader. When French farmers are unhappy, they q

Truffles have been around since the Pharaos were in short pants. Quite why the first sandal kicked the first truffle, prompting its wearer to bend down and take a mouthful, is another story altogether. But we have been loving them ever since... King Francis I of France (let's hope he didn’t endure the challenges of rhotacism) was the first noble notable to put truffles on the royal platter. His truffly gusto was duly noted by the brilliant lawyer-turned-chef, Jean Brillat-Sav

It’s the last month of the year — a season of celebrations and festivities designed to brighten the darker days. But what is December, really? Dec- once meant the tenth month until calendars were reshaped to suit emperors, systems, farmers, and politics. Even the moon keeps its own measure of thirteen lunar cycles, reminding us that time is elastic more often than we gather. This certainly isn’t a lesson about timekeeping, but a gentle question about how we spend the time we

France is famous the world over for its attention to mealtime detail. None more so than the Christmas Eve celebration of “Le Réveillon de Noël”.

Generally, the French go at Christmas less hard than elsewhere it is celebrated. They don't post a shopping day countdown, or fall out of bars wearing reindeer horns from mid-November. France (mercifully) lacks the pub culture that brings the English "together". Nor, might I add, do they have TV programs of a necessary standard to keep people at home on the sofa. I cannot think of a single French TV show, where a Christmas Special wouldn't be acutely painful.

We all hear of superfoods - Goji berries, chia seeds… the list goes on and changes like the seasons. Fortunately, emotions don’t follow these trends, but as we head into the season of gratitude, let me highlight why it is your Superpower and why it’s the ingredient you’ll want in your morning mental smoothie.

OK.. I will admit, I did not know that was what a pre-picked lentil looked like. Which got me thinking around what else I did not know about lentils - and don't imagine I am suicidally bored, or at the wrong end of a bag of California's finest gummies. There is always a tin in the cupboard, thanks to Vanessa, who will gleefully stir them into to pretty much anything. I saw lentils more as a food to be consumed when all else is gone. When the sirens blast, sending us scurrying

In France, where "bread is life", what happens when the bakery closes? Few countries keep such extensive data around bakeries as France does. According to a 2017 government report, 73% of the French population lived within half a mile of a Boulangerie. Of course, in a country where 8-out-of 10 people live in largely urban areas, it is plainly not a city-dwellers problem. It is in rural France where the loss of the village bakery strikes like a family bereavement. For the purp