The morning after Christmas in our house smells like coffee and yesterday. The fridge is full of containers that look faintly official. Labels in JC’s … Read more
Christmas cooking in Catalonia does not whisper. It arrives with a stockpot the size of a small child, the smell of simmering meat drifting through … Read more
We went to the Saturday market in Vic because JC said it would be good for Albert. He said it like homework. Fresh air, colours, … Read more
We went to the market early. List on the back of Albert’s phonics sheet. Fish stalls busy, good prices. The fishmonger offered a mixed pack … Read more
I promised myself I wouldn’t make big claims about tiny wins. Then last night happened, and here I am, writing a love letter to a … Read more
Right, let’s talk about Spanish food. Or, more accurately, let’s talk about how I’ve completely failed at Spanish food and why that’s probably the best … Read more
Okay, let’s talk about aioli. So, I had this grand idea today, right? I’m going to make aioli—because why not? It’s garlic, egg yolks, oil. … Read more
I didn’t set out to make escudella.I set out to cry into a baguette while pretending the rain meant something. But the fridge was half-full … Read more
Snails in Spain? Whole different ballgame compared to the UK. It’s not just the appearance. British garden snails (Cornu aspersum) are small, dark, slimy things … Read more
A while back, my father-in-law was manning the barbecue, like he always does. Guy’s a pro. Flames, smoke, sizzling meat—it’s his domain. Among the usual … Read more
