The restaurant critic and host of podcast Comfort Eating discovered discussing her guests’ guilty food pleasures sparked honest conversations – and now she’s written a book about why these foods are so close to our hearts. Grace talks about the siren call of the pressure cooker, what sober people drink (no squash, thank you) – and hiding underwear from Stephen Fry
Doing the podcast completely changed my attitude to casual foods. We put so much emphasis on the perfect posh dinner we once had, or the dinner party dish we cooked with 15 ingredients from a farmer’s market. But these aren’t the things that tell us who we are. You get straight to the heart of a person by getting them to reveal that thing they’d make for themselves, quietly at the end of the night. Baked beans sprinkled with Wotsits, three Creme Eggs… Certainly nothing they’d photograph and post on social media.
Recording the podcast at my home is so exposing for me. Ten minutes before Stephen Fry or whoever arrives I’m busy picking up knickers from the radiators, hiding gas bills. But in making myself vulnerable and opening my front door it transforms the experience. We begin to talk about life…
I can’t resist 1970s food.
For all the meals out that I have as a food critic, I’m happiest on a Tuesday morning at a very quiet Asda, walking round finding out if Viennetta is still there, seeing if Findus Crispy Pancakes are still being made – and yes, they are. I always loved tinned pasta, too. It’s an instant reminder of our childhood holidays: my mum taking me and my brother David to a static caravan 20 miles from our home and eating tinned ravioli heated up on a hob.
There is an incredible amount of joy in a hash brown at a Premier Inn buffet. My guests’ comfort foods are generally pasta, bread, cheese, potato or sweet. It’s about childhood, your first memories of your mother and father, or the bell going off at school after a horrible morning, and things are made better by a bowl of spotted dick with custard. That feeling of happiness stays with people for ever.
When you stop drinking, which I did a couple of years ago, you still want that weird vinegary taste. You start to get into these really brutal drinks. I’m a big fan of kombucha. Otherwise, when you go out, people say, “Would you like some, erm, squash?” I’m not seven.
Weight training has given me an entirely different outlook on life. I’ve always considered myself a feminist, but whenever it came to anything difficult like opening jars or moving big things in the garden, I thought I neede
