“Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beats and fowls. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liver slices fried with crustcrumbs, friend hencod’s roes. Most of all he liked mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine.” Ulysses, James Joyce. When … Continue reading One About Eating
Every time I phone her, she is peeling onions. I know this because she says, I’m peeling onions, and the tone of her voice is far from joyful. I ask her what she’s making, and she says, I don’t know yet, but everything starts with an onion. And I say, that’s a good line, it … Continue reading The World is Just a Great Big Onion
There are seventeen different types of tomato ketchup to choose from in Waitrose. Ketchup is one of the few things I don’t eat, yet here I am hypothetically asking myself which I would buy if I were here to buy it. Dr. Wills is the most expensive by far. An attractive label – exclamation mark fashioned from … Continue reading Ketchup
‘Is that so? You’re great for getting up and on the road so early, that’s still the middle of the night for me. Dark until Moffat, you say? That surprises me, either you were driving fast, or the sunrise is later than I thought it was. Yes, that’s true, I suppose it is only the … Continue reading Conversation at Breakfast
Driving south from Inverness on Saturday I passed a turn for Carrbridge. I drove straight on, unaware that Carrbridge, on the banks of the River Dulnain, was, that very afternoon, hosting an event of global significance. In fact, I remained ignorant of the gathering until this morning when I woke to the life-affirming headline that … Continue reading Back to Porridge
Me: ‘I’m practically a vegetarian.’ A: ‘Yeah, right.’ (Those two little words, both in the affirmative, tacked together in local vernacular become a loaded judgement, which is altogether negative and gently withering.) Me: ‘But I am!’ (Indignant) A: ‘What about the steak you had on Tuesday night?’ Me: ‘I only eat meat in restaurants.’ A: … Continue reading Bacon Roll
Friday’s vigorous washing and mopping of the stairs in my tenement resulted in me having an exercise hangover. It’s one of my quirks. Some years ago the doctor’s diagnosed me with chronic fatigue syndrome but it has since improved such that episodes like this are, thankfully, a rarity. I’m mildly fit, but fit for certain … Continue reading Fit For Nothing
Plain eating in January hasn't been much of an imposition for me after the feasting of Christmas. Whilst January has many drawbacks, reduced choice at the dinner table, just for a little while, is not one of them. After eating so well, it’s a welcome relief to settle down to a few weeks of plates … Continue reading Bread and Butter
Oh the quirks of living alone! One has all the scope, space and time one needs to acquire, then mature, the strangest habits; time to hothouse idiosyncrasies, let them run unchecked so that, when pointed out as peculiar, you have no idea what your accuser is talking about – like when you begin to see … Continue reading Dine In For One
Haggis is not to everyone’s taste; this is a well-known fact. It seems to be one of those foods against which people take a firm position despite never having tasted it. Although, when compared to the Chinese 100 year old egg, the Japanese Puffer fish or the Icelandic Hákarl (fermented shark), haggis begins to seem … Continue reading Haggis, Sporrans and Nachos
My Edinburgh Press 