© Philip Montgomery for The New York Times
Dress up the barbie however you like – it’s toxic, tiresome and, more to the point, malnourishing
“If you’re invited to a barbecue, have your dinner before you go.” It is the wisest advice my dad has ever given me. Barbecues are one of life’s perennial disappointments. The romance of eating outside quickly degenerates into a recipe for mucky fingers, smelly clothes and more mess than you bargained for, with grills that you can never get clean, uncomfortable seating that makes your back ache or, dafter still, eating while standing up. Worst of all is the true barbecue legacy – the nagging hunger that follows bitty dining, leaving you with the aggrieved sense that you missed a mealtime you’re never getting back.
I grew up in Cornwall, where beach barbecues were a rite of passage. The flame under the sandy grill was blown out by the Atlantic wind, so these gatherings were impractical, unpredictable and interminable. One minute the sausages were raw and looked like they’d never be ready, the next they were hard and black and basically inedible. Rain frequently sent us scrambling to pack up and flee for shelter.
Max Liu is a freelance writer
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© Composite: Guardian Design/Getty Images
© Composite: Guardian Design/Getty Images
© Composite: Guardian Design/Getty Images
Weekend mornings are for family – and whoever happens to be over. Forget fussing and focus on just one big lovely thing for the middle of the table. Here’s how
Family life has had a bigger impact on how I cook at home than almost anything else. There’s a lot of pasta on the menu these days, and potato wedges with different sauces. A lot of meatballs. And a great many pancakes – more than I would have ever predicted before I had kids.
My weekend pancakes – which made their way into my book Simple Too – are supposed to be a batch-cooking exercise: lots made on Sunday, then reheated through the week, in the toaster or a dry pan on the stove, so breakfast is more or less solved until Friday. That’s the theory. In practice, all 22 pancakes the recipe makes are gone by Sunday lunch – eaten by the boys, their friends, or whoever happens to be over for breakfast.
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© Photograph: Pål Hansen/The Guardian
© Photograph: Pål Hansen/The Guardian
© Photograph: Pål Hansen/The Guardian
An enticing, slightly spicy, east/west fusion stacked with vigour and colour
One thing I learned during the recent hot weather is that I don’t have enough “substantial but quick salads” in my locker. A salad one could call lunch (or a light dinner when served with other bits). On rotation in my “throw-together” category is my no-cook chickpea, tomato and cucumber salad, to which I’m also going to add my favourite summer vegetable, bulgur and pesto salad, which isn’t quite an assembly job, but near-enough and a family favourite. To that line-up, I’m happy to introduce this gently spicy, green beauty.
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© Photograph: Louise Hagger/The Guardian. Food styling: Emily Kydd. Prop styling: Jennifer Kay. Food styling assistant: Mandy Thompson.
© Photograph: Louise Hagger/The Guardian. Food styling: Emily Kydd. Prop styling: Jennifer Kay. Food styling assistant: Mandy Thompson.
© Photograph: Louise Hagger/The Guardian. Food styling: Emily Kydd. Prop styling: Jennifer Kay. Food styling assistant: Mandy Thompson.
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