meemalee

You are the bitter, I am the sweet You are the griddle, I am the meat You are the trick, I am the treat You are the circus, I am the freak It's Christmas time, and I while away many a lunch hour in Leadenhall Market, admiring the turkeys on display at the Butchers and staring wistfully at the treats on the Comptoir Gourmand stall, when I notice the ultimate in glossy food p0rn appear in a number of establishments - namely the Forman & Field mail order catalogue. I pop one into my bag and then spend the evening circling all the things I want to get, before realising I can't really see any of it any more because of all the marker pen. Anyway, Forman & Field puts an end to my choice paralysis by asking if I'd like to take part in a challenge called the Forman's Love Cook-Off . The aim is to see which of a number of blog types can come up with the "best" Valentine's Day menu using a mystery box of Forman & Field goodies. Of co

It's the morning after the night before and my husband, his brother, his brother's girlfriend and I ooze slowly down from the comfort of the lovely apartment and crumple into a little heap at the bottom of the stairs. "Morning," chirps a jaunty-hatted Mat Follas , in a pinchably cheerful manner, "Don't tell me you've just got up?". "Grhmmmhrth", I say as we sit down at the long wooden table for some reviving coffee and cake. It's not that early to be fair - 9.30am. The restaurant is full of other sprightly looking people - we've all gathered for a foraging course at the Wild Garlic led by expert Theo Langton and Mat himself. "You're wearing city shoes" says Mat about my tough, plain black Clark's boots, "You're going to get mucky". I make another noise of disdain and nurse my cup of coffee. The brother-in-law and girlfriend are a good bit younger than the husband and me and, thorough

Growing up, the weekend for me meant the Sunday Times. I hung on every word of Craig Brown 's Table Talk, I longed to be Emma Forrest with my own column at the age of 14 (I long to be her less these days ). But my pride and joy was the Innovations Catalogue . Although not an official Sunday Times supplement, a fresh copy seemed to drop out of the pages every week, and made me laugh more than the Funday Times (also RIP), and fascinated me more than the Culture supplement. I wanted to own every single item on offer - from plasma globe to remote control can opener. Sadly the Innovations catalogue is now defunct, but Lakeland keeps me ticking over (I desperately want a Remoska and I kinda want a Toast 'N' Egg). Anyway, my endless lust for gadgets meant that a few years ago I asked my in-laws to get us the Tefal ActiFry for Christmas. Basically a big culinary hairdryer, the ActiFry promises to fry enough chips for a family of four with just a small scoopful of oil (a