While I recognised the value of creating the same dishes day after day and learning technique from those with years more experience and skill than me in great restaurants, I also knew that I wanted to be creative and wasn’t well-suited to that kind of monotony.

Beauty is a huge deal in Lebanon. More so than anywhere else I've ever lived. There are rumors of two-for-one nose jobs at some plastic surgeons and women proudly wear the resulting bandages in public - it's seen as a status symbol - they don't go on "vacation" while the bruises heal and redness disappears.

I've been writing this post in my head for more than a month now. Not to get all psycho-babbly on you, but I'm one of those people who becomes gripped by paralysis the second the perceived need for perfectionism stares them down. Couple that with an admonishment from my Dad (an excellent writer himself) that I must get this post right, must show people what living in the Middle East is really like, and you've got a recipe for lots of thinking, musing, and not much actual writing.

This is a blog post from when we lived in Jordan in 2015 and I sat down to talk to Nisreen Haram about her excellent cheeses and dairy products using Awassi sheep's milk. What's so special (apart from Nisreen herself) is that she makes both traditional Arabic style dairy like labneh and yogurt and fresh cheeses, but she also experiments with delicious French and Italian aged cheeses that are a terrific compliment to the special milk she uses.

Finding and preparing a Jordanian specialty, Kima, or desert truffles.

A post from my archives about the wonderful Maltby Street Market in East London which I wrote about back in May 2012.

Grouse. It has such an English ring to it. Honestly, I had never really contemplated the bird before, except perhaps as it stared balefully at me from the whiskey label it adorns. Now, as my first visit to the Lodge approached, I needed to know how to cook this poor bird, and cook it well. And, as grouse season didn't officially open until after I was already up at the Lodge, there wouldn't be an opportunity for me to dash out to the butcher, retrieve one or two and experiment (besides, at up to £25 a bird early in the season, it would be an expensive proposition). A friend of mine, a British man from a certain class who knows about shooting and how to prepare what he's bagged, suggested I turn to my old faithful, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. His River Cottage Meat Book is a bible to all things fleshy and delicious and particularly British.

My days at the Lodge, when guests were present, typically lasted 16 hours. A full-English breakfast was served at 8am, a picnic lunch to be driven to that day’s shoot location had to leave with Butler 2 and a Gurkha by 11am, then lunch for the Lady of the Manor was served whenever she decided to ask for it (as she was far too delicate to accompany the shooters, or guns as they are referred to), tea sandwiches and cakes had to be ready upon the guns arrival back at the Lodge around 5pm, canapés were served at 8:15pm and then a black tie dinner shortly thereafter. It never stopped.

Over the past five months I have found myself busy travelling to North Yorkshire, a two and a half hour train ride, North along the East coast of England, to an imposing shooting estate, to cook for the master of the house and his guests. It has been a magnificent adventure full of royal butlers, Swaledale sheep, one very good masseuse, a Swiss chef and now fabulous friend, a Jack Russell puppy, a princess, and a lot of grouse.