my birthday presents this year have inspired me to write.
I now have three massive books with as much food writing, recipes and love as can be crammed into three books. they are fat and heavy and almost too big to hold comfortably: just how I like ’em. recipe books so big you have to balance them on your knee or cradle them in one arm. these ‘three massive books’ are nigel slater’s kitchen diaries. each day for three years, he details what he eats – a diary in food. it’s honest and it’s from the heart and it’s just so wonderful. and now I own my very own copies, which means I no longer have to read them on the floor of waterstones, but wherever I please.
so today, I want to write about my birthday in food: the best parts. and if this style of writing is enjoyed, then I shall continue. Continue reading
this post is about fudge, bought in edinburgh and devoured in istanbul. first, let’s deal with the buying.
this fudge was bought in edinburgh, from a little fudge shop called ‘fudge kitchen.’ on the third and final day of my visit to my friend, who is at the university, we went on a gentle stroll down the royal mile, popping into any foodie shops along the way. amongst the abundance of whiskey and cashmere shops, ‘fudge kitchen’ caught my eye and we stumbled in, having already bought hefty tins of shortbread and malt whiskey fudge. before we knew it, we were greeted cheerfully by the very definition of a ‘cheeky chappy’ exclaiming “you too can eat fudge!” and so we did. the love affair started with a salted caramel fudge, which sat temptingly atop the counter of fudges. it was love at first bite.