We cannot bear more drive-through or take-out or near-fatal snack. I am convinced of the boredom of my female ancestors, which is another truth pandemic threw out, and eventually all gags run out to dust. I am happy to leave my review of Penzance McDonald’s where it belongs, which is unwritten. Food is love after all; or it should be.
So I email Ollie Dabbous, formerly of Dabbous, now of Michelin-starred Hide and the most gifted chef working in Britain today. His food looks exquisite but — and this is unusual — it tastes better than it looks. He says he will give me a cooking lesson on Zoom from the kitchens at Hide. He sends over menus. We will have pistou soup — a vegetable soup with pesto — and clafoutis, a French pudding with summer berries, sugar and alcohol.
I have a happy day shopping for unwaxed lemons, for blueberries, raspberries and cherries, for radishes, for carrots, for vermouth, for sage.

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