Spectator Life

During a long year of lockdown, we have all been cooking at home like never before. It’s been a delight to be able to spend all evening stirring a pot of risotto with no social plans to feel guilty about missing. But these stretched-out times, be they languorous or languid, are coming to an end. The social diary is filling up, and I for one don’t plan on missing a long-awaited reunion with mates because I need to be around to check on the roasties. Sometimes we all need something quick and easy for dinner. That’s when I turn to instant noodles. For a self-avowed ‘foodie’, this is quite an admission. But for those days where speed is everything, and the alternative is therefore UberEats, there are far worse things.

There are few finer pleasures than sitting by a river or canal in summer – cold drink in hand. With the bitter winter weather on its way out and pub gardens given the green light to reopen from April 12, a balmy few months of al fresco drinking and dining are now upon us. Here are the seven best pub gardens around the UK to book now. The Sun Inn, Essex With bunting strung up and marquees and deck chairs spilling across the lawn, the garden at The Sun Inn has the charming feel of a village fete. The pub sits in Dedham, in the heart of Constable Country on the Essex Suffolk border. A village church spire peeps over the garden hedge. The outdoor bar is open for drinks Friday to Sunday from April 16, 12pm until 6pm.

Cinnamon rolls never used to grace my breakfast table. First of all, they struck me as the sweetness equivalent of drinking a triple espresso first thing: it might seem like a good idea at the time, but the crash that accompanies it is surely inevitable. And secondly, I was certain that to be the sort of person who can put cinnamon rolls on the table at breakfast time, you must be immensely practical, organised and competent – and tied to the kitchen. And that’s simply not me. Happily, neither of these things are true. While cinnamon rolls are sweet – if you don’t have at least a little bit of a sweet tooth, I’d probably stick to marmite on toast – they’re not the one-note sweetness I had assumed they were.

After long months of social distancing, the scramble is on to book those all-important first meals out. You can almost taste it, can’t you. Someone else’s cooking, served on someone else’s plates. It’s a universal truth that the best tips on where to eat come from within the industry. Here, some of Britain’s best chefs share the spots they’re heading to as soon as the lockdown lifts. James Cochran After stints at the Ledbury, the Harwood arms, various pop ups, James Cochran opened 12:51 in Islington. After the restaurant industry was brought to a standstill last year he pivoted to making his signature fried chicken available under the name Around the Cluck.

If you’ve heard a story about puttanesca it is likely that it translates as whore’s spaghetti – that it was born in the brothels of Naples’ Spanish quarters, a favourite of the prostitutes who worked there, for its quick, cheap and easy nature. But – ah, isn’t it always the way? – the truth is perhaps a little more prosaic. The word puttanesca is indeed derived from the Italian for prostitute (‘puttana’), but the same word is also used as a catch-all profanity, an Italian ‘crap’. In this vein, the dish would come to mean ‘any old crap’ pasta. This makes sense, because puttanesca is a true store-cupboard dish, made almost entirely from tins and jars and dried pasta (entirely if you forgo the parsley).

It’s finally time. After long months walking in the park and pounding coffees in the street you can have a small number of pals over as long as they stay in the garden. Will you have a few drinks when then come by? For the first time in months? Just a couple…? Yes, you absolutely will. Here are some of the best things to serve while you to remember how to have a conversation with more than two people. There are a few cocktails among the bottles and cans but they’re kept pretty straightforward to make sure you’ve got plenty of time for overdue chat. Gin/Whiskey Smash A laidback relation of the julep and the cobbler, the smash is one of the original cocktails, traceable to the mid-19th century.

Who will have a fishy on a little dishy/Who will have a fishy/When the boats come in? Far fewer of us, probably, after the new Netflix documentary, Seaspiracy, 90 minutes of devastating criticism of the fishing industry. Among the more eyecatching assertions is that the oceans will be empty of fish by 2048 and that there is no such thing as sustainable fish. The producer is a vegan called Kip Anderson who produced a similar critique of the meat industry, Cowspiracy. It doesn’t trip off the tongue, but the gist is the same: stop eating meat and fish. It's contention that the seas will be empty by 2048 has been seen off by the marine ecologist, Boris Worm, author of a 2006 report on which it is based, as an unwarranted projection into the future of trends he has identified.

The picnic has long been one of the favourite dining forms of the upper classes. Members of London’s 19th century Picnic Society were each required to contribute one dish, decided by ballot, and six bottles of wine. Though today’s picnics are a little less hedonistic, there will still be an overwhelming sense of celebration on Britain’s parks and commons this spring – as outdoor lunches will be one of the first meals friends and family from different households will be able to share with one another. In Scotland and Wales four people from two different households can now meet outside and from March 29 up to six people in England will be able to do the same.

I unironically love Easter eggs. I love the posh, fancy ones, the high street ones, the budget ones. From the sublime to the ridiculous, I have time and space in my heart for all of them. My husband is sick of hearing my grand theory that Easter egg chocolate is, in fact, the best of all chocolate, probably because the theory really only extends to the fact that Easter egg chocolate is thinner and snappier than that of chocolate bars. When it comes to trends this year, we’re seeing more Russian doll-style eggs (which rose in popularity last year), which as well as being visually impressive mean a variety of flavours of chocolate within one egg.

When it comes to cooking, I make no secret of the fact that I’m something of a traditionalist: I like old-fashioned steamed puddings, I like the classic and the heritage. I like blancmange and rice pudding and suet. I am unashamedly unfashionable. I’m not sure whether I chose the Vintage Chef recipe writing life, or whether the Vintage Chef recipe writing life chose me. I just don’t see the point in reinventing the wheel, or injecting unusual flavours and twists just for the sake of it. But, as I look back through recipes I’ve written, Easter has always been my exception: hot cross bun ice cream sandwiches, hot cross bun bread and butter pudding, cakes topped with mini eggs.

The sunny weather is back – and so too is dining out. From April 12, provided coronavirus cases continue to fall, restaurants and cafes will be allowed to serve food outdoors. But with outside space in London at a premium, restaurants with al fresco seating are being booked up fast. Here are our top picks of the eight best eateries to reserve now for your outdoor reunions. Darcy and May Green barges Why not start things off by dining on top of a floating piece of art? Designed by legendary British pop artist Sir Peter Blake, these barges offer a stylish venue for dipping your toe back into the London dining scene. The 50 metre upper deck serves as a terrace overlooking the Grand Union Canal.

The gin and tonic is a beautiful thing. Refreshing, anti-malarial, and fixable by even the least confident home bartenders. However, malaria rates are at an all-time low in the UK and over-reliance on old favourites is a sure-fire route to monotony and disenchantment. There’s a whole wide world of ways to knock back gin so why not give the tonic water a rest and try something different when 5pm rolls around? Gin Rickey American lobbyist ‘Colonel’ Joseph Rickey liked his rye whiskey and soda with a squeeze of lime for extra zip. He was an influential man in Washington DC and in the 1880s his signature drink became something of a phenomenon in the city’s bars. At the time, it wasn’t unusual to see variations made with brandy and Bourbon.

We are lucky to live in an age of domestic culinary convenience: whatever your heart desires, there’s an appliance, gizmo or specific spoon for it. Want to make cakes in the shape of a shoe? Not a problem. Need twenty different ways to crush garlic? Your needs can be met. Looking for a boiled egg, but in the shape of a square? Or a teddy bear, or a duck? Easy, you can make all three. So it seems remarkable that when it comes to effective gadgets or assistance for something as popular as pizza, we’re high and dry. It seems virtually impossible to get your hands on something that will help you replicate the thin, crisp crusted Italian-style pizza at home for anything other than seriously big money.

St Patrick’s Day is coming. Which means people all over the world will be repeating that thing they’ve heard about the pints being better in Dublin, claiming that they’ve read Portrait of the Artist, and championing Irish family connections through some obscure branch of the family tree. When it comes to refreshments on the day you could do a lot worse than a few cans of stout or cider. Bushmills Black Bush (£22; Waitrose) and ginger ale - 1:2 ratio, lots of ice, wedge of lime - is one of the all-time great highballs and would also do the job nicely. However, the old classics are by no means the only choices for Patrick’s day merriment. Whiplash Cream on Chrome DIPA, 8% (£5.

I don’t often find myself longing for the industrial rigours of a factory when I’m baking in my kitchen at home. But as I patted the squiggle of fig paste with wet hands, corralling it into a rough sausage shape I thought ruefully of Charles Roser of Philadelphia and his patent for a fig roll machine. In the late nineteenth century, poor digestion was thought to be the cause of a number of wider ailments and, as with breakfast cereal, biscuits were seen as an aid to digestion – and figs, of course, were a particularly digestion-friendly fruit. Brought over from Britain to America, the fig roll tended to be made by hand in small batches.

If you're sick to death of Deliveroo, it’s time to take a look at the meat box. Forget vegan meats and plant-based pretenders. It’s dark and wet and we’re all stuck indoors — there’s no point making ourselves any more miserable. Steakhouses and brasseries have been moving their menus online and into cardboard boxes, with a bit of home prep involved to ensure it's fresh on the plate. We’ve all got used to the idea that you can order anything over the internet — but there’s still something faintly thrilling in opening up an innocuous package and finding a Sunday roast staring back at you. And it seems bored Brits are warming to the idea of prep at home restaurant food: over the last 12 months, sales are up more than 92 per cent.

I am an unapologetic pudding pusher. Now, by pudding, I don’t simply mean that more people should eat dessert – although I do think we might feel a little more sweetly-disposed towards others if that were the case – but the peculiarly British tradition of steamed sponge puddings. Once terribly popular, now they are criminally underrepresented in the pudding canon. But for me, they are king. Far from their reputation of being dense or heavy – stodgy – proper steamed puddings are airy, fluffy, by far lighter than most cake sponges.

Venison’s attributes are remarkable. It is the probably the most sustainable meat you can eat, given the unquestionable need to manage the country’s deer population to stop these elegant but pesky creatures from damaging woodland and wildlife habitats. And what of its health credentials? The deer’s free-foraging, cross-country roaming lifestyle makes it incredibly lean: higher in protein and lower in fat than any other meat, with zero cholesterol. Ethically minded chefs and environmentalists have long been making the case for us to eat more venison, and more game generally. The Countryside Alliance’s ‘Game-to-Eat’ campaign has been banging the drum for years.

If I could pinpoint the the moment last March when I could no longer pretend that lockdown wasn’t coming, it was the phone call from my favourite neighbourhood restaurant cancelling our Mother’s Day booking. The rising terror I felt was akin to the bit in The Handmaid’s Tale, just after women’s bank accounts have been frozen, but before the summary executions begin. Instead of drinking blood orange Bellinis, I’d be cooking the usual Sunday lunch, with possibly a bit of grudging help loading the dishwasher, before embarking on half a year of home school hell. Restaurants and foodie businesses have been busy reinventing themselves for the Covid era ever since then.

St David’s Day approaches. I’ve been marking just about every high day and holiday that I possibly can recently, in a bid to differentiate my lockdown days. But with a Welsh husband and Welsh in-laws, I don’t need any extra encouragement to celebrate St David’s Day. Joining the obligatory Welsh cakes, and possibly some bara brith, this year is the Glamorgan sausage. If you’re thinking ‘what the hell is a Glamorgan sausage?’, then come over and join me in my corner, it’s cosy here, and we have snacks. I confess that when I first decided to make glamorgan sausages, I wasn’t 100 per cent sure what they actually were. It’s a vegetarian sausage, but not the Linda McCartney variety.

Now that there's a chill in the air and it's getting dark at 4pm, it's time to turn to those comforting winter staples that get us through the bleaker months of the year. And with lockdown 2.0 in full swing, we have never needed these satisfying dishes more: Braised lamb shanks Lamb shanks are one of my favourite cuts to braise. When it comes to meat, braising is great for cooking tougher cuts – like shanks, but also the shoulder, neck and shortribs. It breaks down the connective tissues in the muscles; it’s this connective tissue that makes the meat chewy if cooked hot and fast. If cooked slowly, the connective tissue turns into gelatine, making the meat soft and tender – and also gives body to the sauce that forms around the meat, making it rich and luscious.

I don’t know about you, but I’m finding it a little hard to get out of my own head, these days. I’m trying not to think about how long life has felt stalled, how many days we have spent inside the same four walls, save for a daily constitutional, how many more we have to do. Those projects of early lockdown – jigsaws, learning a new language, finally reading Moby Dick – have lost their allure. There’s little to define the days, or break them up; the weekends feel the same as the weekdays. In an attempt to get close to culinary mindfulness (or mindlessness, I really don’t mind) I’ve found myself reaching for dishes that don’t require a lot of thinking, but do need attention.