Plus, read a recently published George Orwell essay dissing British food.
British food’s plainness is its brilliance. Food that has a giving unctuousness, food that is cooked with love and also gives love—massaging you from the inside out.
Waxy sausages, tinned vegetables, white bread: iconic British artist Martin Parr's photos are the antithesis of your carefully arranged avo on toast shot. We met over steak and chips to ask what he makes of the #foodporn proliferating social media.
Back when I was studying to be an architect, I worked in Copenhagen for a couple of months for a designer who used to send me out on bizarre missions. On one particular mission, I opted for a lunch that changed the way that I think about food, and...
As the British shooting season begins and grouse dishes appear on high end restaurant menus, so too does the controversy surrounding the shooting of game birds, or what animal rights groups label “gratuitous violence.”
People aren’t interested in meat and two veg anymore, you’ve got to mix it up. I put faggots and veal with cream of St George’s mushrooms on the menu recently and I’m amazed at the uptake.
Lyle’s James Lowe and James Henry of Bones shatter the egocentric chef stereotype with monkfish, 14-month cured ham, and good old-fashioned co-operation.
For many of us, British cuisine is defined by such hearty pub fare as roast beef, shepherd’s pie and chip buttys. But one Leeds native is bringing something new to England’s tables: one hundred percent salvaged foods.
My first experiences with British food weren't spectacular, so I visited Myers of Keswick, a Manhattan grocer specializing in UK imports, to help me come to terms with pork pies, Branston pickle, and sticky toffee pudding from a tin.