They say what goes around comes around and it is a generalisation that tends to come true, but if someone had told me at any time during the decades I’ve been a keen home-cook that I’d be yearning to use the kind of ancient grains our forefathers milled in pestle-and-mortars 10,000 years ago, I’d have thought they were mad. { "marqueeItems": [ { "text": "einkorn - emmer - spelt - khorasan" }, { "text": "〰️" } ], "linkTo": "", "waveFrequency": 4, "waveIntensity": 0, "animationDirection": "left", "animationSpeed": 1.0, "textStyle": "heading-1", "textSize": { "unit": "rem", "value": 1.5 }, "itemSpacing": { "unit": "em", "value": 0.5 }, "blockId": "yui_3_17_2_1_1655727402787_118444", "estimatedDimensions": { "estimatedColumnSpanDesktop": 12, "sectionColumnsDesktop": 12, "estimatedColumnSpanMobile": 12, "sectionColumnsMobile": 12 }, "containerStyles": { "backgroundEnabled": false, "borderRadii": { "topLeft": { "unit": "px", "value": 0.0 }, "topRight": { "unit": "px", "value": 0.0 }, "bottomLeft": { "unit": "px", "value": 0.0 }, "bottomRight": { "unit": "px", "value": 0.0 } }, "padding": { "top": { "unit": "%", "value": 3.0 }, "right": { "unit": "%", "value": 0.0 }, "bottom": { "unit": "%", "value": 3.0 }, "left": { "unit": "%", "value": 0.0 } }, "stretchedToFill": false }, "featureFlags": { "useCLDRMoneyFormat": true } } einkorn - emmer - spelt - khorasan 〰️ einkorn - emmer - spelt - khorasan 〰️ einkorn - emmer - spelt - khorasan 〰️ However, it seems what goes around really does come around in respect of those very early forms of domesticated wheat the first farmers were experimenting with all those millennia ago in the Fertile Crescent of ancient Mesopotamia. Today the culinary world is once again turning its attention to grains such as einkorn, emmer, spelt and khorasan.  Why? Well, for a start, they are rich in flavour and so are capable of producing wonderful food. They are also very healthy - the human gut can deal with the natural levels of enzymes and glutens in these old fashioned varieties more easily than can be said of some high-yielding modern grains. Made from whole-grains, such flours are nutritious and high in fibre.  Last but certainly not least, the old varieties tend to be more resilient than modern highly developed strains of wheat. This means they are more disease-resistant and also more hardy when it comes to the vagaries of climate change.  Spelt has had a regular place in our kitchens for a while now, but this week I took delivery of the three other ancient grains mentioned above and have to report straight away that they will become permanent fixtures in the Hesp household.  As Elaine Boddy - one of the premier sourdough bakers in the UK (better known as Foodbod Sourdough) and author of two excellent books - told me: “For me, as a sourdough baker, these flours offer a whole new world of fun and experimenting in my baking, whilst also bringing wonderful flavours and textures to my sourdough creations.” See the panel for Elaine’s advice on using ancient grains - but now let’s turn to the man who sent me the new bags of very old flour. Bertie Matthews is managing director of Matthews Cotswold Flour which this week added einkorn, emmer and khorasan to the spelt it already sells as part of its comprehensive range, and he told me… “What is so different about the ancient grains we now have in our range? Well, they are the oldest of the grain species - all modern wheat is descended from them. That means they are generally untainted by modern modification, therefore can be a more diverse alternative to modern monoculture crops. “Ancient grains are becoming more popular,” Bertie continued. “They are often less refined and less processed than modern varieties of wheat. This is particularly true in their wholegrain form where they contain a significant amount of vitamins, minerals and fibre.”  Bertie went on to explain more about the three new flours he’s just launched… “Einkorn is often referred to as the ‘mother of all grains’. Its name derives from it only having one grain on each ear (‘ein’ from the German word for one). Einkorn is also called ‘farro piccolo’ in Italian, meaning small. It is the smallest of the three and originally grew wild in the Fertile Crescent 10,000 years ago. “The flour is very rich in flavour and produces a hearty slightly nutty flavour that adds to baking recipes. We recommend using it in the same way you’d use other wholegrain or wholemeal flours,” said Bertie, who explained that an organisation of farmers called the Cotswold Grain Partnership has been growing einkorn in the UK for the last few years. Emmer wheat which is a relative of both einkorn and the durum wheats which have been adopted and adapted with so much enthusiasm by the Italians.  “Known as ‘farro medio’ in Italy, emmer retains its hull during harvest and so is a  wholegrain flour which can be used in pasta recipes or blended into bread recipes,” Bertie told me. “Emmer was brought to Italy by the Romans after they invaded Egypt in 47 BC. It is said that Julius Caesar nicknamed emmer as ‘Pharaoh’s Wheat’. It played a huge part in feeding the Roman legions.  “Today it has been superseded by higher yielding wheats, but is still grown on a small scale in Italy’s mountain regions and in some other parts of Europe. The flour is a darker yellowish colour compared to modern bread wheats and, being milled in the traditional stoneground method, it retains its strong nutritional qualities. Due to its lower gluten quality, you may wish to blend with stronger gluten flours such as our stoneground white, Churchill. Early breads made with emmer in Italy included flatbreads, pita and focaccia.” Lastly we come to khorasan, an ancient grain originally from the Persian empire… “It is also one of the earliest types of wheat, being a relative of the ancient durum first grown in Mesopotamia thousands of years ago,” Bertie explained. “Our khorasan is from an ancient Italian variety including ‘perciasacchi’. It is farmed using a low input farming model in Italy. Khorasan is very tall with deep root systems supporting its nutritional requirements. The nutritional value of the grain has been maximised by slowly stoneground milling the grain into a dark wholegrain flour. This traditional method of milling maintains the nutritious bran and germ within the grain berry, leaving it rich in carotenes and selenium. The rich buttery taste allows it to be used in a number of different baking recipes.” I found all this fascinating, but what’s really boosted my instant appreciation for these ancient grains has been the sheer diversity of rich flavours they offer. They really do pack a punch. “Nutty” would be one easy word to reach for when trying to describe the flavours, but it’s more complex than that. There are levels of sweetness and other rich mineral, sometimes floral, undertones that I have never really tasted before.  This week in my bid to experiment I went against the advice given by both Bertie and Elaine Boddy - in other words I did not go for a mix of ancient and modern, but made a small loaf using nothing but the khorasan flour. Not surprisingly it was pretty dense, but by cutting a thin slice and slathering it with best Trewithen Cornish salted butter I found myself tasting a morsel that was an authentic delicacy in its own right. It is usually the stuff you put on bread that provides the pizzazz - it’s not often that the bread itself crosses your palate with a whole spectrum of flavours. This is a revelation - and I can’t wait to try Elaine’s recipes and carry on experimenting with these substances that have been nourishing humankind for more than 10,000 years.  Elaine Boddy’s advice when baking with ancient grains… “Special considerations and allowances need to be made when using ancient grain flours to make sourdough or any type of bread, as they behave so differently from our modern flours. They can be challenging, especially if used on their own, but are definitely worth it and I highly recommend trying them… Start small: introduce these flours to your bread baking gradually. If you use 500g of strong white bread flour in your dough, start by replacing 100g with one, or a mix, of ancients grain flour. At this level you will not need to make any other changes to your dough. Build it up: from this starting point, you can start increasing the amount of ancient grain flour you use in your dough. You will feel how different the dough feels and behaves. Reduce water: once you start to use more than 100g of these flours in your dough, you will need to start reducing the amount of water, otherwise the dough will become very soft and will not be able to hold its shape when you come to baking. If you want to use these flours on their own - whether one at a time, or as a blend -  they will produce fabulous bread. However, the dough will be very different to work with. It just needs to be mixed, rested, kneaded well once, then left to prove. You will not be able to stretch and pull the dough, the flours cannot be stretched and handled like strong white bread flour can. Once it has fully proved and you want to bake it, move it to a loaf tin, allow to prove again, then bake. The growth happens during this proving time, not during baking - so allow it to prove up and over the edge of the loaf tin before baking.  Provide support: I recommend using a loaf tin to give an ancient grain loaf shape. Alternatively, try adding seeds to the dough to give it some structure. I often make loaves that are made with just an ancient grain flour with added seeds and it works well to create a freeform loaf. RECIPES Elaine Boddy’s Emmer and Honey Sandwich Loaf The mix of emmer flour with added honey produces a loaf with an amazing depth of flavour and a slight sweetness. Equipment: 2lb loaf tin with siliconised paper liner  Makes 1 standard loaf Ingredients 50 g active sourdough starter  300 g milk  50 g water 350 g strong white bread flour 150 g emmer flour  40 g runny honey 7 g salt, or to taste Method Step 1: Early evening, mix together ingredients. Leave the dough ragged, cover the bowl and leave it on the counter for 2 hours. Step 2: After 2 hours, do the first set of pulls and folds. Take a small handful of dough from one side of the bowl, lift and stretch it, and pull it right across the bowl to the other side. Turn the bowl slightly and repeat; keep turning the bowl and pulling and folding the dough. Cover the bowl and leave it on the counter.  Step 3: Over the next few hours, perform 3 more sets of the same pulls and folds. Cover the bowl after each set. The dough will remain sticky but nicely stretchy and will come together into a nice soft ball each time. Do the final set before going to bed. Step 4: Leave the covered bowl on the counter overnight, typically for 8 to 12 hours, at 18 to 20°C. Step 5: In the morning, the dough will have doubled to tripled in size, with a smooth surface. If the dough has not doubled, allow a couple of more hours to continue to proof. To place dough in the pan, repeat the same pulling and folding actions and gently lift and fold small handfuls of dough from one side of the bowl into the middle in a line; turn the bowl 180 degrees and do the same on the other side so that you have a thick sausage of dough. Turn bowl upside down and ease out the dough into your wetted hand. Place, seam side down, on the paper and slip your hand out from underneath. Use the paper to lift the dough into the pan, cover and leave to proof again. This may take 2 to 3 hours. The surface will become smooth and the dough will spread to fill the pan. Step 6: If preheating, set the oven to 180C fan assisted or 200C non fan - bake uncovered for 40 minutes. For a cold start, place the loaf tin with the dough into the cold oven, set the temperature as above and set a timer for 45 minutes. Step 7: Once baked, remove the loaf from the pan and allow to cool on a wire rack for at least an hour before slicing. Elaine Boddy’s Einkorn and Hazelnut Oat Crackers These crackers are made by mixing the dough and leaving it overnight. The flavour will develop and the dough may even puff up slightly. I use chopped, roasted hazelnuts, which works perfectly with the taste of einkorn flour. Makes 20 to 24 crackers Ingredients 100 g active or unfed spare starter 50 g rolled oats 50 g whole grain einkorn flour, plus more for dusting 40 g finely chopped roasted hazelnuts, or your choice of nut 25 g water  30 g olive oil 10 g runny honey  3 g salt, or to taste Method Step 1: Mix together ingredients to form a stiff dough. Cover and leave on the counter overnight. Step 2: Next morning, preheat the oven to 180°C fan assisted or 190°C non fan. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Dust counter with a little flour, turn the dough out and use a rolling pin to roll out to 3 mm thick. Cut out rounds with a 6-mm cookie cutter. Place crackers on the prepared baking pan. Prick each cracker with a fork a couple of times to prevent them from puffing up as they bake. Step 3: Bake for 7 minutes on one side, turn, return to the oven, then bake for another 7 minutes. Step 4: Remove from the oven and transfer to a wire rack to cool slightly. They will crisp up as they cool. Serve as soon as they are cool enough to eat.

Occasionally our palates need a bit of a shake up - even the most dedicated foodie can become weary of their own home-cooking - you need a blast of something different to reawaken the tastebuds. This fertile region of ours is, of course, rich in enlivening possibilities but, after a couple of Covid induced stay-at-home-years, a quick trip to somewhere new can be just what a jaded cook needs to feel reinvigorated and inspired. Our regional airports can offer such a gateway, and I say that despite the recent problems. My reason for making the claim is because of a recent trip to Lisbon, enjoyed thanks to a quick, trouble-free, two-hour flight out of Bristol Airport. It was our first city-break in two-and-a-half years and I revelled in every foodie minute of it.  I had almost forgotten how easily you can dine well but inexpensively in southern Europe. Of course, online research can massively help a visitor get more out of a brief stay in a big city, but you should - if you’re experienced and know the obvious restaurant runes and tell-tale signs - be able to sup well without trip-advisor style websites or city-guides. There is one very obvious reason I make this point: although online acclaim might be accurate and useful, it can also strangle the goose which lays the golden egg with popularity.  Take Lisbon’s now world-famous Time Out Market as an example… The ‘food-hall’ style multiple eatery is, indeed, a foodie’s paradise but, after the likes of Rick Stein and Netflix’s “Feed Phil” sang its praises to an international TV audience of millions, it has become a place of pilgrimage. Instagram-snapping hordes turn up daily and the huge hall is visited by so many people most evenings you have to physically wrestle to find a seat at the long communal tables.   Time Out Market Do visit the Time Out market and food hall, but my tip is to go light on breakfast and head there for an early lunch.   Talking of an ideal lightweight breakfast, what better way to start a day than sampling one of Lisbon’s famous little custard tarts, called pastel-da-nata. I’m not known for having a sweet-tooth, but these really do hit the spot when downed with a good coffee. We were fortunate to have a bakery that specialises in pastel-da-nata on the ground floor under our accommodation and believe me, watching the crowds go by while enjoying such a humble but delicious breakfast was a real treat for a bloke who has, for the best part of 30 months, broken his fast with only the birds for company. Pastel-da-Nata For anyone who hasn’t tried pastel-da-nata, they differ from our custard tarts in two ways. The pastry is crispy compared to our classic shortcrust and the custardy filling is somehow more silky than the dairy-and-egg mix we prefer. I am fond of our nutmeg-topped version, but was interested to see how our two sea-faring nations could develop exactly the same morsel in two such different ways. Even the toppings are slightly different, the Portuguese prefer a sprinkling cinnamon.  If you’re a greedy blighter like me, then the fuel provided by a brace of these tartlets will not last you until lunch. Well, not a late one anyway…  Lisbon will certainly not let you down in this matter as there are plenty of street snacks to be purchased as you stroll around the remarkable city. For me the examples collectively known as salgados  (savoury treats) are perfect for the job of fuelling-on-the-move. Such delights as  pastéis de bacalhau  (codfish cakes),  rissóis de camarão  (shrimp turnovers) and the inevitable  croquetes  (croquettes) are ideal.  Another is Pão com chouriço  - slices of Portuguese bread stuffed with chouriço  sausage.  By the way, here’s a Lisbon travel tip: buy yourself a six-euro 24-hour transport card from a metro station and it will allow you to ride on any bus, underground train, or on the city’s famous antique trams. Being a hilly city the knack is to catch a ride to the top of some historic quarter and then stroll down through myriad backstreets towards the waterside.  As you go, you can use your nose to sniff out lunch. And as Lisbon has more eateries per square foot than most European cities, this is not difficult. But it can disappoint if you don’t know what you are doing. Beware the tourist traps, of which there are many. Lisbon is also one of the most touristy capital cities in Europe - I was shocked by the numbers. Some eateries cater for the hordes in the same manner as a 1970s British dinner lady might have prepared lunch for the school canteen. But up in the backstreets you can find little places serving a classy three course lunch for under £20, including wine. The obvious way of sniffing out the good-uns is to peer inside to see who’s doing the dining. If the place is filled with serious looking, suit-wearing, middle-management types from local offices, then that’s a good sign. We found the Alfaia Restaurant, on a hilly backstreet called Travessa da Queimada. Having served traditional Portuguese grub in the Bairro Alto area for 142 years, it is one of Lisbon’s oldest restaurants and I loved everything we ate in the charming old place. There’s a daily specials menu which features such dishes as “Negrais suckling pig” and “Cabidela countryside rooster and rice”. On another day there might be an old-fashioned Portuguese stew followed by “codfish pastries with tomato rice”. It was the biggest lunch I’ve had in years. We were glad to be able to take a tram-ride home and sleep it off. The immaculate waiters at the Alfaia even brought us dishes we hadn’t asked for, like a wonderful bowl of classic Lisbon fish soup which turned out to be the highlight of the day. What’s required many hours after such a meal is the lightest of suppers. And this we should have had at the Antiga Wine Bar just across the street from our apartment - except the sharing plates were so good we kept ordering more and more. I loved this little place - the absolute antithesis of the stuffy old-fashioned kind of restaurant-style eating many of us Brits grew up with. We had fun. The young staff made sure we had fun. And the other 20 or so diners joined in, so that we all had a lot of fun long into the night.  The food and wine was superb. I am a complete convert to the concept of dining from small tapas-style plates and enjoyed delights such as tomato rice croquet with sardine mayonnaise; “Alheira Cake” (filled with cheese from Ilha de Sao Jorge and mustard); “Black Pig sausage”; chicken samosas with hot spices and mango chutney; shredded duck sandwich with Asian ginger sauce and radish pickle; and crispy tender pork belly slow-cooked with chimichurri.   On another evening when we really were hungry we booked a table at the amazing Santa Clara dos Cogumelos restaurant which specialises in all things fungi. And when I say “all things”, it even serves mushroom inspired sweet dishes like porcini ice-cream (a lot nicer than you may think). This so-called “mushroom temple” was a total treat. Located in the handsome old Santa Clara Market, in the heart of Lisbon’s old town, the restaurant is run by an indefatigable Italian called Luigi Pintarelli who is a leading evangelist when it comes to the mysteries of food made with fungi.  I loved the place and will be preparing the sliced rare beef fillet, sautéed porcini, rocket, parmesan cheese and butter-bathed beauty here at home. I might even have a go at the house special - by which I mean “The Perfect Egg”, which features a “low-temperature cooked egg” and truffled-cheese cream under a smoked almond-and-bread crumble. You see what I mean about coming home inspired? In my opinion, it is one of the main reasons to travel anywhere. RECIPE Classic Pastel da Nata 1 whole egg  2 egg yolks  115g golden caster sugar 2 tbsp cornflour 400ml full fat milk 1 tsp LittlePod vanilla paste 1 sheet ready rolled puff pastry Lightly grease a 12 hole cup-cake or muffin tin and pre-heat oven to 200C/180C fan/Gas 6. Place egg, yolks, sugar and cornflour in a pan and beat together before adding the milk. When the mixture is well-beaten place on a medium heat and stir constantly as it thickens and comes to the boil. Remove pan from heat and stir in vanilla paste. Allow the custard to cool (cover to prevent a skin forming) and now cut the pastry sheet in two, place one on top of the other. Roll the pastry tightly then form into a log so that you can cut off 12 rounds. Roll each on a lightly floured board, the press each disc into the muffin tin. Spoon in the custard and bake for 20-25mins until golden on top. Leave to cool in the tin for 5 minutes then place on a rack and bring down to room temperature before eating (although some people like them warm).

The main photo above features a place called Dead Woman’s Ditch, situated in the heart of the Quantock Hills. It’s a place central to the narrative of my novel, The Last Broomsquire. And also here’s a quick video I made some time ago about the fact that I was giving a talk all about the novel to the Shute Festival. I’ve been thinking about the book again this week because I visited an amazing exhibition at the Museum of Somerset which is all about the writing of Kubla Khan - and the story I penned has a whole chapter focussing on Coleridge and his visit to the hills above Porlock where he wrote what is arguably one of the most famous poems ever to come out of the English West Country. The Last Broomsquire can be purchased at https://www.amazon.co.uk/Last-Broomsquire-Martin-Hesp/dp/B089J3STPF

In tomorrow’s Western Morning News RAW Food & Drink PR pages we’ve got a big spread all about the food of Lisbon. So I’m bunging up a few photos here as a taster… { "marqueeItems": [ { "text": "Lisbon Food" }, { "text": "〰️" } ], "linkTo": "", "waveFrequency": 4, "waveIntensity": 0, "animationDirection": "left", "animationSpeed": 1.0, "textStyle": "heading-1", "textSize": { "unit": "rem", "value": 1.5 }, "itemSpacing": { "unit": "em", "value": 0.5 }, "blockId": "yui_3_17_2_1_1654857724243_12625", "estimatedDimensions": { "estimatedColumnSpanDesktop": 12, "sectionColumnsDesktop": 12, "estimatedColumnSpanMobile": 12, "sectionColumnsMobile": 12 }, "containerStyles": { "backgroundEnabled": false, "borderRadii": { "topLeft": { "unit": "px", "value": 0.0 }, "topRight": { "unit": "px", "value": 0.0 }, "bottomLeft": { "unit": "px", "value": 0.0 }, "bottomRight": { "unit": "px", "value": 0.0 } }, "padding": { "top": { "unit": "%", "value": 3.0 }, "right": { "unit": "%", "value": 0.0 }, "bottom": { "unit": "%", "value": 3.0 }, "left": { "unit": "%", "value": 0.0 } }, "stretchedToFill": false }, "featureFlags": { "useCLDRMoneyFormat": true } } Lisbon Food 〰️ Lisbon Food 〰️ Lisbon Food 〰️ More this weekend after my big Eating Out in Lisbon feature appears in the papers…

Sometimes it’s good to get away somewhere wonderful and relax while staying with a friend. I did that recently by visiting my old pal Richard Pook and staying on his yacht moored at St Martins in the Caribbean - and you can do exactly the same thing because he takes on paying guests at a very reasonable rate… You can read all about that here - https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/41577414?adults=4&check_in=2022-05-13&check_out=2022-05-15&federated_search_id=1008a541-ab6f-4768-80ba-4bc91a84390b&source_impression_id=p3_1651145983_bFysGleshRfWgNzx Basically, Richard’s 50 foot long sailing boat is moored off Marigot which is the capital of the French side of the island and in my opinion a much nicer place than Philipsburg which is the capital of the Dutch side.  There’s still a lot of damage in evidence right across St Martin left by Hurricane Irma in September 2017 - it was the first Category 5 hurricane to strike the Leeward Islands on record and was followed by hurricane Maria two weeks later. To be honest I was a little shocked over just how much damage was left over five years after the event - partly because I’ve been to St Martin several times before and remember how the place was before the big winds destroyed so much.  But there is one way of helping the islanders and that is to visit the place and enjoy what the island has to offer - which, in my opinion, is quite a lot.  If we just take Marigot as an example, there’s a wonderful new area of pop-up style bars and restaurants operated by local people - called lo-los I believe, right there on the dockside near to where Captain Richard moors his RIB when he goes to town shopping. We ate out there several times and it was good food and great fun.  We also dined out in the strangely named but excellent Enjoy SXM Restaurant where, I must say, the food and value was as good as I’ve found in this part of the Caribbean.  One find day we caught the local bus north up to the Rambaud area where we alighted to stroll over the hill to reach dramatically situated Loterie Farm, tucked under the highest peak on St Martin. This place is a nature sanctuary set deep in 135 acres of mainly wooded valley with hiking trails and zip-lines alongside a pool and lounge area. That all seemed a bit touristy for our purposes - not to say expensive - so we contented ourselves with having a drink and a first class lunch at the restaurant.  On another occasion we drove a hire car further north to the wonderful coastal community of Grand Case - a town which is renowned for is fabulous seaside bars and eateries that line the beach from one side of the bay to the other.  I will be adding further articles on our visit to St Martin soon, but thought I’d get a mention of Captain Richard’s boat and the AirBnB deal you can enjoy at the website above.

Polignano a Mare is a picturesque town on the Adriatic Coast of Italy, just south of Bari - on a part of the littoral known as the  Valle d’Itria . It is perched - quite literally - on a 60-foot-high limestone cliff.  The origins of the town date back to the 4th century BC when Greek settlers founded the city of Neapolis. It continued to flourish under the Romans - indeed the Emperor Trajan directed his famous road, the Via Traiana, built between 108-110 AD - right through the town. You can still see remains of this road including a bridge at Lama Monachile, just north of the town centre. The old town is reached through the Porta Vecchia gate and is made up of charming, white-washed streets dotted here and there with beautiful old churches such as the Chiesa Matrice. It’s a bit of myriad, but eventually you will probably issue out onto  one of three panoramic terraces offering breathtaking views of the Adriatic coast. After a stroll in town you can make your way to one of the beaches such as the town beach which has crystal clear waters and is flanked on two sides by cliffs that have become famous thanks to the Red Bull high diving competition.  Polignano is renowned for three things.  First and foremost - Domenico Modugno, who wrote and sang numerous very well known songs which were famous throughout Italy. But one of them became famous around the world - Volare (originally entitled Nel Blu Dipinto di Blu).  Locals are, of course, hugely proud of their famous son - and you will see this rather good statue of him on one of the terraces above the sea. The town’s second claim to Italian fame at least is the superb ice-cream made here. And the third is the aforementioned cliff diving. The Red Bull diving competition attracts crowds of some 50,000 people. About 30 miles down the coast we come to Parco Naturale Regionale Dune Costiere da Torre Canne a Torre San Leonardo. The coastal dunes regional natural park which stretches down from Torre Canne to Torre San Leonardo is an interesting coastal area just off the main motorway. It was established in 2006. There are lagoons just behind the dunes which obviously attract all manner of birds. I was there in winter but I see that in high summer this place can be crowded with folk desperate to be beside the seaside - which I guess is the same with most of the Puglian coast.  Perhaps not so much the Torre Guaceto Marine Protected Area Coastal and marine reserve about five miles south again. I’d say this must be one of the least visited stretches of the entire Adriatic coast. The nature reserve boasts a 16th-century defensive tower and a visitor center with a museum and not much else. But it is a rather lovely area - and wonderful for some winter walking before a mega-sized Puglian lunch - which is the only size of meal they do in this part of Italy.  The Torre Guaceto Marine Protection Area is a zone filled large numbers of Mediterranean species. The habitats include seagrass meadows, sandy beaches and deep-sea Mediterranean coral formations. The rocky intertidal areas have numerous forms of seaweed and sea urchins. The deeper water muddy areas are home to molluscs, brittle stars, sea stars, sea cucumbers and polychaetes.  Mediterranean coral formations are unique structures that contain red listed species such as yellow and white gorgonians. The seagrass meadows provide habitats for a variety of fish, crustaceans, sponges and molluscs. The European and common spiny lobster are commercially popular but are protected within the Torre Guaceto Marine Protected Area.

I once spent day strolling around Bari on Italy’s Adriatic coast. Needless to say, I headed straight for the harbour when I reached town. Of course, being situated on Italy’s east or Adriatic coast, Bari is very very rich in history. The first inhabitants of the area were living happily in this fertile area an astonishing 7000 years ago. . They were a tribe of Proto-Indo-Europeans who originated in Greece and migrated to Italy. It is said that this was a barbarous part of the world - but one which had borrowed many customs, farming techniques and traditions from Greece across on the other side of the Adriatic.  After the Romans began their rule in the 3rd Century BC, the area became an important for trade as well as protection of the East coast. By the 2nd Century, it became a haven for Christians - some of whom became famous saints - including Saint Nicolas of Myra. This influx of well known saints and martyrs began to attract pilgrims, which in turn triggered the economy of the harbour city and of the whole region.

There was a fortnight just before Covid when I went nightclubbing in a hot tropical city, drove a Vespa scooter through crazy Vietnamese traffic in the middle of the night, took a speedboat into the Mekong Delta, was enchanted by a beautiful woman in a hot steamy riverside bar, explored a strange village built on stilts over a white sandy beach, delivered a speech to 20 managers at a leading South East Asian hotel, visited a night market in an ancient port along with 100,000 other people and triple that number of lanterns, got drunk in a bar on the 50th floor of a skyscraper, attended two cookery lessons focussing on oriental food, read The Quiet American in one go while aboard a Boeing Dreamliner, and when I eventually - feeling weary - took our dogs for a walk in the cool windblown hills above my home. It was just a year after I’d had a massive heart valve replacement operation and I spent some time in Saigon, or Ho Chi Min City as its more properly known. Which is a good place to try out a new heart valve. Because Saigon is a hot and frantic place. Busy, doesn’t do it justice. It is frenetic. Crazy. Fabulous. Beguiling. Exciting. Intriguing. All those things and so much more. Here are few of the street snaps I took while walking around Ho Chi Min City in the incredible sultry heat. Of course, as is always the case with me and my travels, I headed to the nearest food markets first. Hot, stuffy, sweaty and filled with people who won’t leave tourists alone, I still enjoyed every minute. Ben Than Market is the most popular with tourists, but there are plenty of others to visit. The only frustrating thing about wandering around such places as a keen home-cook is that you want to cook with all the amazing ingredients, and of course you can’t if you are staying in a hotel. Especially not a wonderful upmarket hotel like The Reverie, Saigon.

The Monty Python team used to do a sketch about what they called the Bleedin’ Obvious - and in a way you can follow that theme when it comes to selecting a walking route. This usually means hiking up some large eminence or other where the aim is simply to get to the top to enjoy the view . No single bit of terra firma in the entire West Country is more bleedin’ obvious than Brent Knoll – the great big mini-mountain that presides over the M5 motorway just north of Bridgwater. It looms like some vast sentinel guarding the very gateway to the region.  I have long argued that the West Country begins and ends on a line that you can draw from Brean Down on the Bristol Channel coast to Portland Bill in the English Channel – and Brent Knoll is one of the biggest, most noticeable eminences along that border.  It is one of those places you’ve driven past a thousand times and each time you say to yourself: “I must go up there one day. I really, really must.” My father had been saying that for more than half a century, which is why I took him and my mum up with me one day a few years ago. This also proves the point that just about anyone can scale this steep mini-mountain, even if its slopes are steep – my dad was in his 80s when we did this walk. Recently £11,000 was spent on laying a footpath up to the National Trust owned summit, so that makes thing easier - though we didn’t ascend that way.  Fact File Basic Walk – a circular route over and around Brent Knoll, starting at the village of East Knoll on Weston-Super-Mare road to north of hill. Distance and going: three miles, fairly gentle except for one steep climb and descent. Recommended map: Ordnance Survey Explorer 153  There are many public paths that surround the 449 foot knoll including several that pass over it, but we did a circular route from oddly named East Brent – I say odd because, given its location, I cannot fathom why it isn’t called North Brent instead.  Anyway, it is a village that straddles one of the main roads to Weston-Super-Mare – which doesn’t endear me to it, but the village church with its beautiful spire does. We parked near this elegant temple and set off directly for the Knoll which we could see looming to the south.  A footpath ascends through pleasant fields with the views getting bigger each step of the way – but they begin to really unfold after you reach trust-owned land towards the top. Suddenly the going gets a whole lot steeper – as steep as the proverbial house roof.  At the top… Well, it’s the nearest thing you can do in the West Country to flying in an aeroplane without having your feet leave the ground. There are immense vistas that include the Polden Hills to the south, Glastonbury Tor to the east, the Mendip Hills and Cheddar Gorge to the north east, the Bristol Channel and Wales to the west and the Quantock Hills to the south west.  The Knoll dates from the Jurassic times 300 million years ago when a warm, shallow sea surged around its lower slopes. To this day its local name is Frog Island – but whether this relates to that ancient sea or not, I cannot tell.  The giant outcrop of clays and limestone was a pretty obvious place for Early Man to make his home and subsequently people from the Bronze Age and Iron Age have lived up on the summit. The giant hill fort that crowns the place is still very much in evidence.  The Romans built a temple here, and various coins have been found. The Anglo-Saxons used of the Knoll as a look-out station to keep watch for Vikings - who duly turned up, as they did in so many West Country locations. There was even a battle in the year 875 when the Saxons managed to beat the Danes. The nearby village still boasts a Battleborough Lane.  By 1086 the Domesday Book was reporting that 250 people were living around the Knoll’s base, keeping just up from the marshy land of the Somerset Levels that were often in flood. In 1607 the whole of the Vale of Avalon flooded to the depth of 12 feet as far as Glastonbury - and just a century later the sea broke across the land again.  Today, standing up there on the Knoll, you still get the impression that it wouldn’t take much to flood the surrounding lowlands. And it’s down to those lowlands we now go by taking the new-laid path which we find at the south-west corner of the Knoll. It descends sharply at first to reach the fields, then takes one zig-and-zag to reach Manor Farm.  We crossed the lane here and took the footpath to our left which turned westward and took us around the upper edge of a strange steep escarpment which makes up a plateau on Brent Knoll’s seaward slopes.  After passing around the edge of four fields this path eventually arrives at an underground reservoir – which is where we turned to our right and began the easterly journey back to East Brent. Again, the path runs across fairly level fields – seven in all – until it reaches the lane.  We turned left, walked a few yards down the road, then found the footpath on the right to descend across just one meadow to the church with the elegant spire.  It’s only a three mile hike, very straightforward (from the summit you can see every step of the way), but hugely worthwhile as it boasts – without exaggeration - some of the finest panoramas in the region.

There are times when we can find ourselves yearning for a particular food or dish - perhaps we are deficient in some vitamin or mineral or maybe a single moment of inspiration or a series of events leads us to crave some item we feel we cannot do without.  Edible objects of desire can range from a humble pickled onion to fancy French patisserie - or from a simple slice of sourdough bread to some exotic curry - it doesn’t matter what the target is, the main thing is getting your hands on the dream item and sinking your teeth into it. Of course, pregnant women are best known for such cravings, but you don’t have to be either female or with-child to become momentarily obsessed with a specific foodstuff - as I discovered this week when I was overcome with a desire to eat a particular kind of red meat.  It may sound odd, but I can explain why I was suddenly confronted with a yearning for venison… For a start I had just returned from my first holiday in two years - one which saw me, the unrepentant carnivore, spending a fortnight at sea with a boat-load of vegetarians. Not so much as a single chicken drumstick found its way onto that meat-free vessel - no wonder I had cravings for meat! But why specifically the stuff provided by members of the deer family? Because, on my return to these cold damp shores, my pals at Devon-based Farm Wilder were telling me about their new range of venison which all comes from Forestry England sites across the South West.  To be honest it was the two recipes we’ve included in today’s food pages which really did the trick - there were moments in the early part of this week when cravings for their venison pie made me feel like some kind of drug addict in need of a fix. But there were other reasons why I was wanting to both eat venison and also write about it… My determination to fight against the ridiculous “all meat is bad” mantra being adopted by so many people nowadays came top of the list. There is a very strong case for arguing that eating the meat of wild deer is good for the planet. It is well known that wild deer populations in this country are getting out of control - numbers in most areas need controlling - so why waste or ignore a perfectly good, healthy and delicious source of food which has nothing to do with climate change or any other environmental concern?  In fact you are helping the environment by eating wild venison, as an excess number of deer can do untold damage. Just about everyone agrees that deer need controlling as booming populations wreak havoc in woodlands, damaging mature flora and preventing natural succession. The job used to fall to large carnivores but, in a world without wolves and sabre-toothed tigers, deer management is down to us humans. Given this fact of life it would be a criminal waste not to make use of the meat which happens to be a very good source of protein. Low in cholesterol, it is rich in all manner of things like minerals and trace elements - and of course it really is one of the most toothsome things you can eat, especially in the cooler months of the year when most of us feel the need for something filling and substantial.  A deer’s wild foraging allows the meat to develop deep and interesting flavours, with lean and tender textures - and of course it does not have the high carbon footprint associated with the industrially created feed given to most farmed animals. “Encouraging more people to eat wild venison is better for biodiversity and helps protect our future forests”, comments Andrew Stringer, Forestry England’s head of environment. “Our venison is 100 percent wild, lead-free and from well managed forests. With more people becoming aware of the challenges around intensively farmed animals, wild venison is a perfect solution for those wanting to eat less but better meat.” We have mentioned in these pages before how Farm Wilder supplies meat boxes from Westcountry farms that have adopted regenerative farming methods and which are committed to supporting and restoring wildlife to their farms. Now the community-interest company has become the only supplier of venison from Forestry England’s woodland sites across the South West. Farm Wilder’s co-founder Tim Martin says: “If you enjoy eating meat, and are able to source sustainably reared wildlife friendly meat like ours, then you can eat it with a clear conscience, knowing that your delicious meal is helping make our countryside healthier and bringing back our wonderful wildlife.” Looking at my collection of cookery books I spotted the perfect guide - a tome called Ultimate Venison Cookery, by Nichola Fletcher - which is the be-all and end-all on the subject of preparing the meat of deer.  It even has an entire chapter on the making of venison sausages with recipes ranging from a basic banger, to posh-nosh such as the venison with juniper, pine nuts, and Scotch whisky version.   It also has chapters on the sources of venison (First Catch Your Deer would make any vegetarian swoon with horror), the eating quality of deer meat and another entitled The Venison Toolkit, a treatise on venison enrichments such as jellies, stocks and marinades. There’s a section on light dishes you can make as starters, and even a special subdivision on venison mince. Then, of course there are the main recipes areas such as roasting, dealing with steaks, the aforementioned casseroling, pates, pies and terrines and dealing with the “fifth quarter” - i.e. the offal. And yes, there are even deery deserts, like reindeer milk ice cream – which sits oddly next door to a proceeding chapter on “skinning and hanging” your venison. All this fuss is well worthwhile in my opinion because venison is one of the finest meats we have in this country. As the book’s blurb says: “Venison attracts more misunderstanding than any other meat. It is now widely available and eagerly sought-after for its health benefits. However, lack of understanding mean that many people still give out wrong cookery advice based on pre-conceived myths.” There are no preconceived myths concerning venison in my house - just an out-an-out desire to cook Farm Wilder’s recipe for a proper warming pie made of this most fabulous of West Country meats… RECIPE Venison Pie Game pie is a dish entwined in British history and you can choose from a variety of fillings for example venison, pheasant, rabbit, partridge or even pigeon, the list goes on.  You can either top with pastry or a creamy mash potato. Ingredients 2 tbsp vegetable oil 1 kg stewing venison 1 x 375g packed of ready rolled puff pastry, or short pastry, shop bought 1 beaten egg, for glazing 2 medium carrots, diced 250g sweet potatoes, or butternut squash, diced 1 large red onion, medium diced 1 tbsp tomato puree 2 tbsp plain flour 250 ml red wine 600 ml stock,  2 tbsp red current jelly 1 tbsp teriyaki sauce, optional 3 sprigs fresh thyme 4 crushed juniper berries Method Pre heat oven to 140c fan assisted. Heat the oil in a large sauce pan add the venison, cook over a high heat until browned all over. Lift out and drain on kitchen towel and set aside. Lower the heat, add the carrots, onion, sweet potato or butternut squash and cook stirring for 3 minutes until softened. Add the thyme, juniper berries and stir for 1 minute.  Add the tomato puree, flour and cook for 1 minute. Now add the venison, red current jelly, red wine and stock, stir and bring to a simmer for a few minutes. Pour into an ovenproof casserole dish, cover and bake in the oven for 1 ½ at 140c fan assisted until the venison is nice and tender. Remove from the oven and cool. Lightly a flour a work surface and roll out the puff pastry to fit the pie dish.  Pour the venison mixture into the pie dish, place the pastry lid on top of the pie dish, make a hole in the middle of the pastry to let the steam escape and crimp the edges with a fork, brush the pastry with the beaten egg and decorate with any left over pieces of pastry. Bake the pie in a pre-heated oven at 200c, 180 fan, Gas 6 for 25-30 minutes until the pastry is well risen and golden brown.

Many years ago - when digital photography was in its infancy, hence the quality of these photos - I spent a long hot sweaty and very wet day on the Caribbean island of Dominica. The reason we went ashore from the Star Clipper was to explore the Indian River which originally got its name because the Kalinago (Carib Indians) lived in the green rich hinterland it serves. The river was important to them - they used it to transport goods for trade with sailors and travel by canoe along the island chain. The wide coastal wetland features near the town of Portsmouth spectacular buttressed Bwa Mang trees - and I’m told the Indian River is among the most picturesque of Dominica’s 365 rivers, although it was hard to say the day we were there because it was raining so heavily. A number of local boatmen, rowing river boats with wonderful names, take you past many types of wild life and plant life as you travel slowly up river. On a dark wet day with black clouds and plenty of lightning strikes it’s a bit like Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. Apparently various scenes from Pirates of the Caribbean were filmed here - although on sunnier days, I imagine. The target for our voyage upstream was the famous 'Bush Bar' where you more or less have to try the signature rum drink. Apparently they also serve smoked fish and a variety of other drinks, juices and local cuisine - but I didn’t see any. However I was very very careful with the rum - which was, in my opinion, almost hallucinogenic in its strength, Several of my friends were soon worse for wear. And I mean, really really out of it. So much so that later myself and the late Jeffrey Rayner went aboard another sailing ship as the guest of the captain where we wined and dined until midnight - whereas the Indian River victims went straight back to the Star Clipper for a long lie-down full of strange dreams… And, blimey, didn’t I look a lot younger back then…

A cold grim February grey day dawns and the morning’s work requirement - which is calling for 1500 inspirational words on food and drink - is, for once, realising nothing but a blank screen. So what to do? Well, right now I can think of nothing - absolutely nothing - I’d rather think about than all the fabulous dishes I’ve enjoyed while on various holidays around the globe.  If social media sharing sites like Instagram are anything to go by, I am not the only one reminiscing with taste-buds and tummy. After two years of zero-globe-trotting, a great many people are thinking about the culinary jewels which sparkle in the ‘happy departments’ of their memories.  These do not have to be the expensive six-course banquets consumed in posh restaurants or hotels. Some meals sparkle like stars in the vast void of the past because they somehow marry the concept of perfection with a sense of place.   Or, indeed, the sense of being in the wrong place. I can think of memorable dishes which stand loud and proud partly because their appearance seemed somehow incongruous, or not exactly in keeping with their surroundings. For example, the very best spaghetti bolognese I have ever eaten was consumed - not in Italy - but in a small outdoor cafe on a Corfu mountainside.  Maybe I was extra-hungry after having walked up the long hot slopes to the ghost village of Old Perithia - or perhaps it really was just a perfect bowl of pasta and meat. I’m not sure, but I lean toward the latter. Because the spaghetti was absolutely spot-on al-dente and the meat content had great flavour, having come from a lamb reared on those very mountainsides. The cook had included vast amounts of fresh garlic from her garden and just the right dose of herbs collected from around the village. She had not held back when it came to lubricating it all with excellent local extra-virgin olive oil. Each morsel also contained an almost imperceptible hint of cinnamon - which is the Greek way when it comes to minced meat. It was served, by the way, with a truly amazing orange and olive salad. Okay, an Italian would scream: “That is NOT spaghetti bolognese!”  I wouldn’t argue. But who cares? Spag-bol is what it said on the hand-written menu. A “Greek take on spaghetti bolognese” would have perhaps been more accurate. And how about my most memorable cheeseburger and chips? Not devoured in Texas or anywhere else in the USA, although I’ve had plenty of top-notch burgers across that great nation. The best example of this now ubiquitous dish was presented to me in a little road-house on the island of Hokkaido, northern Japan.  By way of explanation, a local farmer told me: “Hokkaido is like your Kent - it is the garden of Japan.” The main local delicacies will have any English person feeling at home - cheese and potatoes. And no, I had not heard of Japanese cheeses before, or oriental spuds come to that. But both are a big deal in the fertile farmlands of this beautiful volcanic region. High peaks surround the fields and clear rushing rivers interweave the myriad foothills.  At every touch and turn you come across lush crops growing here, harvests occurring there and little farm gate shops everywhere.  Hokkaido potatoes are famed throughout Japan, because of their texture and flavour. They make the best chips imaginable. And cheese is a big deal in this dairy region. I particularly liked one which reminded me of Devon’s Sharpham Savour, which in turn is based on a French Savoie style cheese, boasting a rich, creamy hit with a slight tang. Just right for melting over a burger made from 100% grass-fed, aged, dairy beef. I sat with other journalists in a windy alleyway in a place called Niseko Village, thinking: “Blimey! This is the best cheeseburger I have ever eaten!” Here’s another unlikely memory… You can’t get much further from the sea in Europe than Vienna - yet one of the best plates of fish and chips I’ve ever eaten was a superb dish of deep fried local catfish and spuds, served at the Labstelle Restaurant in the heart of city.  One of the finest barbecues I’ve ever had was cooked for me, not in Argentina or any other beef country, but in a steep vineyard in Madeira. The meat was cooked on long skewers over vine-wood by a man called Antonio Oliveira, who makes the island’s superb Barbusano wine. One of the best salads I’ve ever had was served in a restaurant on top of a Swiss mountain in the middle of winter. So impressed was I, that have have written entire subsequent articles about the wonderful way the Swiss have with salads, no matter what the season.  Of course, it is far more usual to discover that location lends itself, perfectly and intrinsically, to the food that’s being prepared. Take ceviche - the delicious and refreshing South American dish of raw fish “cooked” or soused in some kind of liquid - usually, but not always, the juice of some kind of citrus. A cooling ceviche made from fresh harvest conch meat soused in coconut milk was a thing of beauty I shall never forget - served, as it was, in a beach cafe on the beautiful isle of Petit St Vincent in the Caribbean. I once learned to make an equally delicious ceviche at a cookery class in the truly amazing Jade Mountain Resort, St Lucia. The view of the famous Pitons - St Lucia’s extraordinary twin-mountains - was enough to make you drool before you even began chopping salad stuff freshly picked from Jade Mountain’s own jungle gardens.   Talking of doing the chopping myself, one of the best lunches I have eaten was one I cooked my greedy self in Vietnam. I hasten to add, this was also at a cookery school - this one staged by local village women at the excellent Anam Resort just south of Na Trang.  My best evening out dining from pillar to post was probably in the Sardinian capital, Cagliari. I say probably, because I’ve had a great many of these and they’ve generally been a little overly lubricated with alcohol, so there are other candidates. Anyway, just before the Covid lockdowns I went for a night out in Cagliari, guided by my pal Enrico Cao who manages a wonderful B&B called The Place in the city. We started by eating nibbles of bottarga - pressed mullet roe, otherwise known as Sardinian Gold. The night ended hours after midnight with me wailing: “No more! Please no more!” after a 15 course dinner at Su Tzilleri’e su Doge - an ancient and fabulous restaurant built into ancient city fortifications up on Cagliari’s main hill overlooking the port. The best picnic I have ever had was with six female friends in the old Perrier bottle sand quarry in Provence, while staying at the amazing Hotel Crillon le Brave - one of my favourite hotels in all of Europe.   Some memorable dishes are so simple they almost defy description. Like the dish of half a dozen sea urchins I ate for breakfast - fresh, dripping and straight from the dockside at Bari on the Italian coast. Or the strips of best Parma ham brought from a truly heavenly delicatessen in the back streets of Lucca in Tuscany. I don’t know if itchy feet is the right phrase, but you can probably tell from this article that - like so many people after 24 months of staying put - I am yearning to go off on some culinary adventures once again. If all goes well, I’ll be doing just that and reporting on my discoveries in these pages during the coming year.