I wrote the article below about 18 months ago - the young chef, Ross Sloan, has now moved on to open of the pointers that can make a chef sound out from the crowd and lure journalists like me on a 300-mile Combine the milk and butter in a saucepan and bring to the boil.

Then, once you’ve reached the summit on the exhilarating cable car ride, you can look south and see a

lettuces and tomatoes, which are fine in their own way - but things grown under plastic thousands of miles Options: you can do different things with this basic zing-filled salad - for quick lunch I’ll often bung

Grand Meaulnes which has accrued cult status among young people of a more romantic bent – it’s about a youthful Alain Fournier’s novel is a muse upon many levels – the vagaries of lost youth, the untouchable ephemeral

generalisation when it comes to carefully grazed cattle, raised on the traditional complex grass leys of South Farmers who rely on eco-friendly grazing practices in places like the South West are producing some of What we desperately need is a movement of farmers across the South West who are saying: enough is enough

suddenly disappeared… The Tamar Bridge, for example, has being doing sterling work for 50 long years this month why all West Country dwellers should be celebrating the bridge’s half-century anniversary later this month “Also our prevailing wind is the south westerly and we’ve got a nice railway bridge here which baffles

What he says in the video is still relevant to this day - even more so here in the South West where we

It’s an inch and a quarter of garden hose which went on a the end of a barrel and I could fill a bottle And this is the cyder which takes up the south part of the county where they have so vast a quantity

story Frankenstein here after being partly inspired to write it back at home in Somerset’s Quantock Hills

But take the exit roads and motor for a few miles and you can easily come across hidden gems which will

In connection with Christmas it may be mentioned that in the West Country it is reckoned a crime to kill

with our young son Harry (then aged about 2 or 3) and our good friend Neil Hopkins, and we travelled south