Butter, whether it’s smothering a crusty piece of sourdough, used in an emulsion to finish vegetables, foaming in a pan to finish a protein, or transformed into a beurre noisette to produce a nutty flavour, I just couldn’t live without BUTTER.
A cheeky McDonald’s double cheeseburger (stuffed with fries) and washed down with an ice cold can of Coke (full sugar and a can not a bottle).
I try to limit myself to once a month.
I can remember one Easter when I was 4 or 5 years old, and we were living in rural Queensland, Australia.
My brother, sister and I were climbing an old weeping willow tree in the garden, and I can remember my mum calling out to us to let us know that the baked hot cross buns that she’d made were ready.
I can still remember the smell of the yeasty bread and spices.
Inver Restaurant and Rooms at Loch Fyne.
We’ve been twice since moving to Scotland and we’ve just been wowed by the whole experience.
My wife and two girls love it too.
It’d be a full Sunday roast - whole chicken, rib of beef, pork belly, pot roast lamb shoulder with all the trimmings, including goose fat roast potatoes, carrots, parsnips, sprouts, cabbage, green beans, Yorkies, stuffing, gravy etc.
Then I’d drift off into a food coma on the couch.
As I have a little bit of a sweet tooth I’d probably have to go for dessert, as there’s nothing quite like a classic pudding to finish.
The over use of mixed micro herbs and flowers, as it’s style over substance.
It would have to be a family affair, as most of them live all over the UK and Australia and we don’t get to see much of each other, especially after the year we’ve been through.
Being an Aussie, it would have to be a chilled out stereotypical BBQ with ice-cold beers.
The starter would be Scottish shellfish including razor clams, langoustines and scallops simply grilled over coal.
These would be finished with butter, garlic, herbs and lemon and served with crusty sourdough to mop up all the juices.
This would be followed by ribs of beef on the bone grilled over coal to medium rare/medium and a massive summery fresh Greek-style salad loaded with Gordal picante olives.
Dessert would be chef Michel Bras’ tarte au citron and my mum’s pavlova as it just brings back happy, nostalgic memories.
I don’t really have one, although I do sometimes miss the foodie melting pot that is London.
On my hit list is the North of Spain and the South of France.
