For those of you who have never had the pleasure of eating courgette flowers, I have to say that in terms of flavour you've not missed out on much, but what I love about them is that, no matter how they are prepared, they always look exquisite and are such a versatile receptacle for showcasing great flavour and texture combinations.
In Sweden, its culinary landscape has created - out of necessity and osmosis - a national blanket of works of art that reach such a deeply fucked surreal and counter-intuitive culinary splendor that the most absurd creations by high-concept experimental artists, experimental chefs or artist-chef-experimental-weirdos wither in comparison.
I rarely go to church and when I do, it's fairly reluctantly, but when I was a child growing up in Southampton, my mum dragged me along most Sundays. Occasionally, if she asks, I still keep her company at her local church, near to where I live. These days I drag my own children along but it still makes me feel a bit like a kid too. Like last Sunday.
Alex James, the former Fat Less bassist and the man who put 'ur' into Blur has done a bizarre 'food' column in the Sun. In what reads like an advert he has championed Kentucky Fried Chicken, McDonald's and Greggs in a series of PR puff quotes and those kind of gormless photos that 15-year-old-boy bands specialise in.
Little Chef, and its erstwhile cousin Happy Eater, suffered what can only be described as an image problem. Happy Eater customers decided that they were perfectly happy eating somewhere else; while Little Chef eventually followed the lead made by the police, and dropped their height requirement for kitchen staff.