Taming the armpit cringe-badger.

And everything else I ate this week.

At the beginning of this week I was all primed to quietly quit food writing and scuttle away Northwards forever, appeasing the cringe-badger that hides in my left armpit and whispers sweet nothings into my clavicle. But then three things happened in quick succession: firstly I went to the Guild of Food writers awards evening and had an unexpectedly brilliant time. Then, I spent the day co-working with my favourite shiny-headed food writer and his cat, and then my agent rang me and told me it was time to stop appeasing the scurrying little cringe-badger and do some goddamn writing.

So here we are. I’ve hammered out some letters for you all, arranged them into words and strung everything up into sentences. I hope you enjoy it this week, next week, and the week after that because if I want to be a big strong wordsmith I’ve got to sweat out my stupid imposter syndrome, tame the cringe-badger, take my wit-a-mins, and do push ups with my publish button. With any luck, it’ll all start feeling lighter soon.

Best thing I ate this week:

I was in London for the Guild event, so my excellent pal Imy-who-you-should-hire took me for some Brazilian pasteis from Taste Factory in Tooting market. Pasteis are hot, crispy rectangular pockets of fried dough, with cheese and meat inside. I don’t need to tell you that they slap. Mine was filled with shredded chicken, olives and a melted cheese which I think had been blended with some sort of emulsifying salt so it didn’t split - it was richer than a béchamel, but less violently orange than most queso, so one for the mystery box until I go back and ask the man myself.

Hocus focus.

(Also in the mystery box this week is why anyone would build a flat in Glasgow with cavity walls and not proceed to fill them with insulation, thereby making the summer temperature indoors a balmy 13c.)

Worst thing I ate this week:

Lidl’s luxurious Italian range normally smashes it out of the park with their middle aisle selection of packets, tins and jars. Their anchovies packed in olive oil are fantastic, as are their tiny pitted Leccino olives; I’m a big fan of the dried porchini mushrooms and if you can get a hold of the almond biscotti, you’re in for a treat. Downright disgusting, however, are their long-life spinach gnocchi. I tried one for done-ness before putting the rest around a lemon and pea sauce I’d made, and I’m glad I did: they tasted like the unwashed spokes of an extractor fan in a backstreet laundrette.

Unsalvageable*. Binned. Spaghetti for the sauce instead.

Best thing I made this week:

Used up some egg whites, some slightly stale almonds and on-the turn mascarpone to make coffee meringue sandwich biscuits not dissimilar to Brutti ma Buoni, which are basically like if a french macaron joined the Italian mafia and got a rippling back tattoo of a giant dragon. Recipe was a classic guesscipe so can’t share here but will make again with measuring devices soon.

Worst thing I made this week:

A mess of Roberta Flack’s Killing Me Softly at a gay karaoke bar in Euston. The melody comes in on the ninth of the II and that’s more difficult to sing than it looks.

Deal of the week:

£160 for three nights in a room with a little garden in Split in Croatia, between two of us. 10 minutes from the beach. Booked cheap flights Wednesday lunchtime, arrived the next day at 11:30am. Yes I’ve deleted Instagram off my phone so yes, this is the first you heard of it. Still counts as this week cos we left late Sunday.

Honourable munchions:

Sam made me homemade pasta and a deliciously smooth and spicy ‘nduja, red pepper and mascarpone sauce for our working luncheon on his balcony in Lewisham. Get this: he roasts the garlic inside the red pepper to stop it burning before blending everything together. Isn’t that genius?

Other honourable munchions include Hotel Chocolat’s tiddly 57g milk button tubs. These chocolate drops feel like dog treats, but they’re for you in case you have to sit quietly on the train for five hours, thinking of nothing because both your 4G and headphones run out of juice 23 minutes in.

(I am a very good boy.)

Conclusion

An excellent week of travel, fun and friends. The shipping forecast for Felicisea next week is Southerly Glasgow to Peterborough, then even more southerly to London (again) veering Northerly into the following weekend. Very rough idea of what to eat but might include Cote’s set menu with moderate or good, occasionally poorly behaved colleague called Milo.

*look, even Lewis turned his nose up at these, and you could probably cover plasticine in gravy and he’d eat it and not complain all that much.