The farmer and his wife

NOTHING said “home” like the kitchen of Nant-y-Bri Farm at breakfast time. Delicious frying pan smells hung heavy in the air and the scrape of cutlery on willow pattern plates indicated the family had

Giles Catchpole hopes for cool heads in cold climes

I WAS browsing the bookshelf in a charity shop when I glanced up to see my neighbour outside, trying to come in. With his arms fully encumbered with a large bag, the door was proving difficult to open

THIS is delicious, Mum,” Demi said, taking another spoonful of apple pie. “I can never get my pastry as light as yours.” “Cold fingers!” Sheila said. “Not to mention that I’ve been making the same rec

GEORGIA wasn’t supposed to be at her grandparents’ house that day. Her plan had been to go up to her boyfriend’s house in Manchester. She was to be set off early from work, getting there in good time

Our columnist fondly looks back on the desserts that delighted our taste buds in the Seventies…