#jamie oliver cookery school

[chilled-ray]

Viet Street Food at the Jamie Oliver Cookery School

My mom gifted me and my partner and a voucher for the Jamie Oliver Cookery School ages ago – perhaps last Christmas? Or maybe for Steven’s birthday in June? – and we finally got around to booking a cooking class.

It wasn’t that we weren’t excited about the idea! There were just so many factors to consider that, for a while, we simply couldn’t make a decision. The Italian course we ruled out quickly – Steven had made pasta once and vowed never to do it again. Japanese would have been cool if the object of instruction were sushi, but the main dish was teriyaki, which we make ourselves at home on a weekly basis. Our final decision was between Vietnamese and Thai, since both are cuisines we enjoy and aren’t already practiced in the preparation.

The other big concern before booking was whether our meal could be Kosher-friendly. I sent a message through the website with the query and received a clear and thorough reply in less than 24 hours: They could offer vegetarian alternatives for the food, but the environment was not Kosher. That was fine for us – This household adheres to certain rules of Judaism more strictly than others.

The evening class we settled on for “Vietnamese Street Food” was attended by about ten other pairs. The class instructor / head chef, an approachable young woman named Emma, worked on creating two pots of phở, one chicken, one vegetarian, while announcing an introduction to the class. She then demonstrated the two dishes we would be making before sending us off to our stations.

First on the menu was pork dumplings, except for us and a handful of other vegetarians, who made an #aubergine stir-fry. Frankly, I was quite pleased with the substitution. I prefer aubergine to meat most days, and the stir-fry was excellent!

We also made summer rolls, that most refreshing of appetizers. With the fresh veggies cut into ling thin strips and the herbs chiffonade, I dipped circles of rice paper in and out of a shallow pan of water with some trepidation, but ended up rolling decent summer rolls, especially considering it was my first time. It was easier than I’d expected. Steven, a more worldly soul than I, had told me many times before about how shite he was at working with rice paper.

When all was done and the food ready to serve, we deposited the stir-fry into lettuce cups, artfully arranged the two diagonally cut summer rolls, tucked in a handful of salad made from leftover vegetables, and splashed everything with a dipping sauce we’d prepared in the very beginning. Said sauce was a calculated blend of sharp flavours that give Vietnamese food its signature taste: lemongrass, garlic, birdseye chilli, palm sugar, fish sauce, and rice wine vinegar. (We were offered soy sauce instead of fish, but opted for the as it was still Kosher-friendly. Turns out fish sauce is made from anchovies. I’d been under the impression there was shrimp in it, but must have been thinking of something else.)

This photograph, of course, is the resulting meal. A platter of summer rolls, aubergine stir-fry lettuce cups, and dipping sauce all made by myself and Steven; bowls of phở made by Emma, bubbly beverages, and a group of increasingly satisfied student chefs.

[lyledebeast]

There is no non-Hogwarts related reason why Jamie Oliver can play around a have such a good time in the kitchen and turn out perfect dishes every time. School of Witchcraft, Wizardry, and Cookery.

[marymccartneyphotos]

Paul McCartney's Meat Free Monday Mission

June 25, 2009 -- The Telegraph

Sir Paul, Mary and Stella McCartney are leading the Meat Free Monday campaign to persuade people to avoid meat once a week. It is not an attempt to turn the world vegetarian, one day at a time, but a crucial step in the fight against climate change.

There is a charming, seemingly random video on YouTube of Paul McCartney demonstrating how to make mashed potatoes. It's a recipe from Linda McCartney's On Tour book (he is following the instructions from his own well-thumbed copy) and there is something quite endearing about the way he shows you Linda's tip of how to chop an onion, as he hacks away with the knife the way no professional chef would. He is no Jamie Oliver. Obviously, Sir Paul has many other talents and his guide to making mash the Macca way, a video he made as president of the Vegetarian Society, is just a bit of fun – the perfect accompaniment to a couple of Linda McCartney's vegetarian sausages.

Food was a key part of Paul and Linda's relationship and when they decided to go vegetarian in the seventies, it was a spontaneous and joint decision. "Linda and I, we were on the farm and we saw lambs gambolling and we were eating leg of lamb…so it was a compassionate thing. That seems to be the least important thing to people these days. It seems to have gone right out of the window, the whole idea, unfortunately, because it's rather a nice thing, a bit of compassion."

What was it that made this man hate us? These days, Linda's food still brings the family together. They are actively involved in Linda McCartney Foods, which recently had a bit of a dust off and a rebrand. The family all taste and approve any new recipes, and I imagine, their freezers are well stocked with Linda's burgers and sausages. It is important to them, their way of keeping Linda's legacy alive. So when Paul decided to launch a new campaign, Meat Free Monday, it was the perfect opportunity to get together for a rare public group hug.

As he muses over a suitable recipe for another cookery video to promote the new campaign, he remembers one of his father's favourite recipes. "Pea sandwiches," he recalls. "I remember my dad making one for John once." But his daughters groan. "It has to be mum's lasagne," says Mary.

While Mary prepares to take the photographs for this story, Paul takes a tiny mouth organ from his pocket and plays as Stella sings along. "This is why Bob Dylan wants to write songs with you," she laughs. It's a family joke. Despite the news reports that the two musicians are about to record together, Paul tells me later that the rumour is totally unfounded. "No, that's a newspaper thing. He just said some very complimentary things about me in some interviews and I love him. I think he's a great poet and writer so I've always admired him. I don't rule it out and I admire him. But we're not the kind of people who would ring each other up." Mary takes her place in the picture, arranges her dad's hair which is blowing in the wind, and presses the shutter.

The family is famously vegetarian, but Stella says for this particular debate, she wishes they weren't. This is not an evangelical mission to make the world a veggie but an attempt to do their bit to slow climate change. "It's an environmental conversation, not a vegetarian one," says Stella. "It's ok to just give up meat for one day, it doesn't make you a vegetarian if you hate vegetarians, it doesn't make you cranky, hemp wearing pot smoker. It's alright, it's allowed - it doesn't make you a kind of the person you don't want to be. It just means you are doing something positive."

Paul read about the campaign in America and decided he needed to get involved. Over the past year, he has been talking about it, writing letters to celebrities and chefs, talking to schools, and galvanising support from as many people as he can, including Woody Harrelson, Doris Day, and Ricky Gervais. Two weeks ago [Monday 15 June], he held a press conference to launch the campaign at Oliver Peyton's restaurant Inn the Park. Peyton himself – a fully fledged bone marrow sucking carnivore - has agreed to promote meat free dishes every Monday at the restaurant.

The campaign has some weighty research behind it, not least from the UN. "Dad got the report," says Mary, who is softly spoken but has a cool air of authority about her. "You were sent the report weren't you?" She looks at Paul who has joined us round the table at the Portobello Hotel in west London, quietly whistling to himself. "Yeah, I was originally sent it. Livestock's Long Shadow it was called. The UN, who are our appointed global watchdog, said 'hey, cattle rearing is more harmful than ALL transport.' That is the statistic I thought was shocking because until then I thought it was aeroplanes, cars and trucks…"

According to the report, livestock are responsible for 18 percent of the world's greenhouse gas emissions, which is indeed a bigger share than that of transport which accounts for 13 per cent. "We're not just talking about a few cows," says Paul. "We're talking billions. I took a drive from Santa Fe down to El Paso, a road trip I was on, and you go past I think about 15-20 miles of cattle as you drive down the motorway and it's the same cow; it's a brown and white cow. There are billions of them! And that's where it comes home. That's where the methane is coming from, this is the problem, not just a couple of cows on a farm. It's not just Daisy and Buttercup any more."

It seems the world is coming round to the Macca point of view and this is too good an opportunity to miss. It's the first time not eating meat is being promoted by scientists – 'traditional eaters,' as Paul calls them, not vegetarians with a vested interest. For Stella and Mary, following their father's lead is perfectly natural. Linda would certainly have been there, waving her placard. She was already talking about the relationship between food and the environment long before the UN decided it was time to act. This is part of the family's way of keeping Linda's legacy alive. "Ideally yes, be vegetarian," says Mary. "But if not, just reduce your meat intake to make it fun do a meat free Monday."

Listening to them running through the arguments and the statistics backing up their campaign, you feel this is a typical discussion that would happen over a family nut roast. Occasionally, they talk over each other and finish each other's sentences. "It can be so overwhelming," admits Stella. "And you can feel so …oh god, but I've got to get that plane there and I've got to drive my car with my three kids here. You are led to believe that transport is the main problem, but actually it's diet. To be honest we could sit and bang on about it…"

Paul: "But we don't want to bang on, we don't want to say to you look, you have to go veggie. The idea of this is for the environment, for your children's future, would you consider just one day a week changing your habits? And then if you decide to do two days, three, four, then so much the better, but if people would do it, it would have a huge impact."

Stella: "If everyone gave it up on a Monday it would be more effective than everyone stopping driving their car on a Monday. We are not perfect. It's so important to get that across because it's like oh, those bloody Maccas, talking again about not killing cows! It is boring. But the reality is, I like to think I am trying to do my little bit. I will turn off the lights when I leave a room; I will turn off a socket if I don't want to be using the socket. And those are tiny little things."

Paul: "Even President Obama tells you to do that."

It is a small thing they are asking us all to do. Very few of us eat meat every day of the week, but by cutting back on what we eat, we can make a difference. On average we are eating twice the amount of meat we ate in 1961, the year the Beatles first performed at the Cavern club in Liverpool. "The idea of having one type of meat for your breakfast and another type of meat for your lunch, and then another type for your dinner, and in between having your sandwiches with another kind of meat, we really do eat too much of it," says Paul. To produce a single kilogram of beef, farmers have to feed a cow 15 kg of grain and 30 kg of forage. It is a highly intensive business that is ultimately not sustainable. Livestock production is responsible for 70 per cent of the deforestation of the Amazon jungle and by 2050, the world's livestock population is expected to rise from 60 billion farm animals to 120 billion. It is a scary fact when you consider that a single cow can produce 500 litres of methane per day, which has around 25 times the global warming impact of CO2.

"I think we forget more and more that we are animals," says Stella, "and we are part of a planetary system where all of the animals are on this planet together and you are made to feel like a hippy dippy jerk that should go and live in a tipi for even making a point of remembering."

Despite the fact that she rarely gives interviews, Stella is the most vocal of the three, passionately backing up her father, shaking her head, saying 'it's all money, money, money!' about the projected growth of the meat industry (world demand for meat is estimated to double by 2050) and butting in with the odd comment like: 'Greed is not a good look. I was brought up to think this was not a good look. Everything in moderation.' And she knows her stuff. She urges me (and you) to watch a film called Home that was made by the aerial photographer, Yann Arthus-Bertrand, and launched the previous week on World Environment Day. You can link to it from her website.

As she says, she tries to do her bit. Although she already incorporates sustainable and organic fabrics in her mainline collection, she also designs a capsule Green Collection which is as purely ethical and sustainable as she can make it and is sold at Barneys in New York and Harvey Nichols in London. On her website, in between pictures of models looking supremely cool and confident in her clothes, if you click on the 'Green me' button, you can read Stella's eco tips – small things we can all do to help slow down global warming. Her London shop is powered by Ecotricity. Her skincare range, Care, is made using 100 percent organic active ingredients and is Ecocert –certified. And of course, she tells her celebrity friends off for wearing fur and doesn't use leather.

"In my industry, there is no alternative in people's minds to leather shoes. Now I'm not making a leather shoe. I'm doing alright. We can get by. Things change. Humans are the best animals - the best adapters on the planet. We adapt quicker than a tree does in the rainforest. We adapt, that's what we do."

In March, she was given an award by the Natural Resources Defence Council (which works to protect wildlife and wild places) in New York. "I was lucky enough to present that to her," says Paul. "I said that when she joined the fashion world, she first of all was employed by Gucci and my first thought, and Linda's, was uh-oh Gucci is leather city. When you think of Gucci, you think of leather. We thought about how long is it going to be before she caves in on her principles? And we waited, and we waited, and we waited, and she never did. That is a fantastic achievement… and that's what's great about new ideas, different ideas, people catch the fire, they get excited with the stuff. It's just thinking about it instead of just becoming a Gucci slave. Took a little bit of guts to do that."

Despite the fact that Stella feels she has been pilloried for her beliefs and principles, it seems to have paid off. Just as the fashion world has finally come round to her big idea of wearing jumpsuits and your boyfriend's jacket, we seem to have arrived at a moment when having principles – and a bit of compassion – is not such a bad thing. It is perhaps no coincidence that she is the only fashion person to be included in Time magazine's annual 100 most influential people list this year, an achievement she is obviously proud of, giving me a high five when I mention it. Just as any father would, Paul admits to having the magazine on his kitchen table, open at the relevant page – a tribute written by Stella's mate, Gwyneth Paltrow. "Even if you are not vegetarian somehow Stella gets you to believe," she writes. "She manages to convince you (never sanctimoniously from a soapbox) that killing animals is needless and cruel and bad for the environment."

Paul says she didn't have to be that way. "She could have caved in and we almost would have forgiven her. The pressures were so huge but the fact that she did not…" Stella cuts in. "I'm very lucky. I don't think that I am magnificent, I just think I've been very lucky. I think I've been brought up in a certain way. Mary's like that, my brother [James, a musician] and sisters [Heather from Linda's first marriage, and Beatrice from her father's second] are like that. My husband's like that. I think that you do stand out if you stand out against things. It was very hard in my industry especially to have those kind of principles and I did have the mickey taken out of me probably up to about a year ago. And people will probably read this and chuck it on their barbie and cook beef on it but the reality is I'm more impressed by people who take a risk and who stand up to good beliefs and I think in this day and age…"

Paul: "It's how the world changes."

Stella: 'The main thing is not to bang on about it too much. We don't generally bang on about it, I try to keep my head down and get on with it and design pretty frocks, that's my job. And dad makes pretty good records when he's given half an hour in between his potato mashing, and Mary's a fantastic photographer. But I don't think we want to come across as forcing people to think a certain way, I think it's just a very valid issue and life's too short to not do something you believe in. You've only got a short period on the planet to make something of your life."

With all of this passion and desire for change, I wonder if Paul will be writing a Dylan style protest song to promote their cause. "I do have a few sort of animal awareness songs, but they are very difficult to write. I wrote one called Looking For Changes that was applauded by PETA, which started off with 'I saw a cat with a machine in its brain', you know that picture? A hardcore picture. That made me write that, but it's very very hard to do and it's not my forte. I wish it was, that would be kind of nice to be driven in that direction. Songs aren't always what you are passionate about. You'd like to think that they all were but sometimes it's just about I love you, or you're great."

And with that, our time is up. Stella's phone has been ringing non-stop. "We're going to get a bit of flack for this," says Paul, who can't resist singing into my Dictaphone before turning it off. "Why do we feel we need to do it? You know what, because Meat Free Monday is a damn good idea. I mean, what are you going to tell your kids? That we can do something about it. This is one of those things that you can do."

[corinathecook]

Basic Bread Rolls and Bread Making at The Jamie Oliver Cookery School

Basic Bread Rolls and Bread Making at The Jamie Oliver Cookery School

Don’t be afraid to make your own bread!   These basic bread rolls inspired by a class at the Jamie Oliver Cookery School are so satisfying to make!  And tasty too. Just over a week ago I attended a Bread Baking: Knead to Know cookery class at the Jamie Oliver Cookery School in London sponsored by Currys and Hotpoint .    There really is nothing better than the smell of freshly baked bread and I…

[mudricky]

Newmains Primary School pupils learn about healthy food with a little bit of help from Jamie Oliver

Newmains Primary School pupils learn about healthy food with a little bit of help from Jamie Oliver

A number of Primary School pupils in Renfrew recently made the most of Jamie Oliver’s cookery knowhow to help them learn how to create simple, nutritional and delicious recipes. (more…)

[secret-rendezvous1d]

A Christmas Blessing

DECEMBER 2ND, 2017.

Omg please do more Persephone and jack for blogmas!! I am in love with them. Maybe something where jack and P are out shopping and they split up in a department store and Jack starts walking around and looking at engagement rings and H and the missus go over and have a little chit chat with him?

The second addition to Blogmas 2017 is here! I haven’t written a lot of stuff to do with Persephone as an adult, nor have I done much including her significant other, Jack, so it was nice to give you an little insight into their life and the sweet relationship bond that they have. So this one was really lovely to have a play with and write about. Thank you for sending it in!

Feedback is welcomed, as always.

Enjoy. xx

Jack was up before his phone blared out his alarming wake-up call. An alarm that Persephone hated to hear, filling their small Southampton flat, at six o’clock in the morning on a week-day. Because, to her, no one should ever be up before seven. Never falling short in pushing herself away from his comfortably warm side and tugging the duvet with her as she rolled onto her side, burying her face, deep, into her pillow and grumbling heavy goodbyes to him as he left for his morning classes. Reaching across to the bedside table on his side of the bed and switching his alarm off to save them from being rudely interrupted by an obnoxious horn. The bright, and rather unusual, December sunlight peeking in through the slits of the cream-coloured blinds hanging down her childhood bedroom window, an upgrade from the striped pink curtains that used to hang down to the floor, casting a yellow haze around the room. His eyes blink open, slow and lazy, removing the cloudy vision creating a sheen over his brown orbs.

Throughout the night, after sleep had been induced by drinking too much of your popular mulled wine and feasting a meal that could have fed everyone in Hampstead, Persephone had managed to cosy herself closer to him. A leg swung over his hips as she cuddled further into him, trapping him in her hold. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder, tucked against his warm chest as it rose and fell. She’s snoring, rather comfortably, because she’s always had the fear of him finding it the least bit attractive, with her buttoned nose pushed against the stubble that sprouted his flesh.

Reaching a hand up from where it was perched on her hip, his t-shirt no longer covering up her torso and having risen up through the night from her tossing and turning, the duvet sliding down his arm and exposing it to the cold air, his fingers delicately moving strands of her hair back from her lips, tucking them behind her ear in order to not have a hairy kiss. He licks across her top lip, feeling a blush crawling up his neck as his body instinctively reacts to her touch, squeaks and little hums filtering to his ears from her slightly pursed lips, pasting several wet pecks on her mouth before drifting down across her chin and up and over the supple mounds of her cheeks, brushing his damp lips across the tip of her nose. Up the bridge and on a path across her creasing forehead.

“Mm, good morning,” she murmured sleepily, cracking an eye open and sending him a warm smile, “mum and dad are in the next room, you know? As much as I love some morning love before our days begin, I don’t want to risk them walking in and seeing you hitting home base. That happened once and, well, we both know how that turned out. We had a day-long lecture on safe sex which was awkward for every single one of us,” she pushed his face away from her and grumbled, “your morning breath doesn’t smell so good either. Is it possible to have a hangover from mulled wine?”

“By the way you were knocking those glasses back, I’m pretty sure it’s a possibility,” he chortled, nudging his nose into the base of her throat and peppering kisses to the space between both of her collarbones, “think your dad was a bit worried. Kept glancing at me through the night. He’s quite, uh, he’s quite scary when he does that, isn’t he? I think he was telepathically scolding me for not looking after you.”

“You get used to it after a while,” Persephone grinned, lopsided and toothy and much too similar to her father’s, “he’s a big softie really, my dad. He’s very protective, thought, and you’ll probably hear him scold us more than ever because we’re all old enough to have a glass of wine with our Christmas dinner this year,” she cackled, head rolling back against her pillow. And he ceased it as an opportunity to attack her neck with rougher pecks. Sucking on the skin below her ear and eliciting a string of soft moans from her throat. Fingers raking through his pillow-messed hair, “it’s your first Christmas here. Dad gets really festive. Especially during the week building up to the twenty-fifth. I can guarantee you that he’ll have Christmas music playing when we go down for breakfast, wearing a hideous jumper that he wears every year, making gingerbread pancakes and cutting them into tree shapes, even though we’re not kids anymore.”

Christmas tree-shaped pancakes, flavoured with gingerbread and cinnamon, became a Christmas tradition, every Sunday throughout the month of December, when Darcy and Rose were old enough to consume solids. Filling the house with a delicious aroma of pancake batter and gingerbread that always made the house feel warm and toasty. A rather tall pile of awfully cut out tree-shaped pancakes, that Harry had slaved away making throughout the hour of waking up, sat in the middle of the empty dining table, surrounded by bowls of strawberries and blueberries and bananas as well as bottles of syrup and a can of whipped cream that has become Alfie’s favourite.

“Think we’ll have traditions like that when we’re married and have kids of our own? I’ll make the pancakes, I think, because you can barely make scrambled eggs,” he teased, his cheeks flushing pink as she grinned, “we’re got some right gruelling stares from the neighbours when the smokes alarm went off. I still don’t think we’re their favourites.”

“Of course not. I’ll buy us the best house. One close to London so we’re near your parents but also close to Southampton so we’re near my parents and they can commute easily to see us. One that has a lot of bedrooms and has the best scenery and a back garden for our kids to play in. And I’ll let you take over the interior because you’ve a decorative eye,” he said softly, sitting up and twisting himself around to face her, crossing his legs into a pretzel shape, leaning back on his palms, “heck, I’ll even build us a house, if you want me to. Your dream house. That you have full control in decorating. As big as you want it. Wherever you want it. Whatever you want, I’ll be satisfied with. A happy wife means a happy life.”

“You’re the best boyfriend ever, do you know that? An absolute treasure,” Persephone tittered, reaching over and squeezing his knee before hauling herself up to her feet, stepping off the mattress and stretching her back, arms pushed into the air as the t-shirt on her body rose up and showed a little stomach. A delighted groan mewling from her lips. “We should probably start getting ready if we’re going to hit the shops before it gets busy.”

By the time they’d made their way out of the busy tube stations, said hello to the few people who had recognised them in the street, dodged a few paparazzi and hid themselves from those who were eager for pictures - just to claim they’d met and seen Harry Styles’ daughter and her boyfriend and were able to make headline news in the following morning’s papers - and eaten a delicious breakfast in a café just outside the front of the rather large shopping centre, she was already insisting they split up for the 3 hours before lunch. Bouncing on her heels and rocking on her feet as she took in the surrounding shops; from a large, and brightly lit, Gucci store to a retail Debenhams store to a cookery school under the name of Jamie Oliver to a store that Jack knew had Persephone written all over it - Lush. An excited grin on her face, making two dimples pop on her cheeks, just above the corners of her lips, because she felt at home. This was where she spent her youth. Her teenager years. This was where she spent her pocket money and her birthday money from her grandparents and this is where she came with her dad when it was close to your birthday. This was where Harry took her as a young girl to spoil her rotten, just like he would do with her siblings. It was full of her favourite stores and she was sure, if it was even possible, she’d move in and claim the centre as her property.

She disappeared, into the crowd of bustling shoppers, in the blink of an eye.

The touch of her lips still lingered on his from the delicate kiss she’d pressed to his flesh. The sound of her sweet voice that, only just, bid him a “see you soon” still fresh to his ears. The weight of her bag, that hung on his shoulder throughout the journey on the tube, was no longer weighing him down once she’d whipped it from him to check she had her purse within her possession. He tried to search for her, to look for the top of her head, to see her brightly coloured, and frilly, knitted jumper amongst the crowd of coats and bobble hats and jackets, but to no avail. Clueless to where she’d gone, he stumbled around and tried his hardest to buy some more gifts for her, despite the already large gift-bag full of wrapped goodies he’d found and ordered offline. He popped into shops that had a few trinkets that he knew she would love to see on Christmas day morning. Brought more than enough bath bombs and a basket full of her favourite bath-fizzers and face creams and masks from Lush, that he knew he’d be ruled into using with her; which, he couldn’t ever deny, felt amazing after an early start, a stressful lecture and a cheeky study period that he took to finish off his essays, back in Southampton, come the new year.

He’s not entirely sure how he ended up in a jewellers.

More specifically, he’s not entirely sure how he ended up in the engagement ring section of a rather quiet jewellers in the middle of Westfield.

He was only just window-shopping and looking at a pair of white trainers, under the specific brand that his girlfriend wore, as he scuffed passed... but a glisten of a diamond, encrusted onto a ring, caught his eye as he shuffled passed the shop and, well, what harm could one look cause?

Proposing to Persephone had been on his mind for a while now. Passing thoughts at night, when he was tucked up in their too-big bed with her, his warm feet keeping her cold feet warm, legs tangled up beneath the duvet, in a cuddling position that made him think that a single bed would have still had plenty of room either side of them. Early morning thoughts that usually peeked when he took one glance at her whilst he was getting himself dressed and ready for the day, when she was sprawled out on her front, with one foot hanging over the edge of the bed and the other bent up, and dressed in one of his thick hoodies because their tiny home got cold through the nights, and, she just liked to smell him as she laid cosy. He usually found his mind wandering when he was midway through his classes, head lulled to the side and resting upon his palm, thinking about how he would pop the question and where he would pop the question and what he would say for the build-up. Where they would get married, when they would get married, who they would get married surrounded by.

He loved her. He really did.

“We have many a boyfriend come in and take a look at our engagements rings around Christmas time. Is there anything I can help you with, sir?”

Jack spun on his heels and smiled softly at the elderly lady, dressed in a maroon coloured shirt with the store’s name printed on the breast, with glasses on her face and a motherly feel to her. Shaking his head softly.

“I’m just looking, thank you,”

... for now.

Jack had always thought that taking his end-of-year exams, entering essays and  and partaking in large presentations in a full lecture hall would be the most nerve-wracking events that he’d accomplish in his life. He wasn’t the most outgoing guy and he was never the most memorable face in a crowd full of people. He was never surprised when his peers, sitting around him in his university lectures, forgot his name and he was never surprised when they looked at him with pure shock because he'd said more than two words to them. He was shy and reserved and kept himself to himself, most of the time, and never spoke up unless he really needed to. Only ever letting loose in front of those he felt comfortable with and that never ranged further than his group of friends and his girlfriend, who had lovingly stayed by his side, regardless.

He never thought, any time soon, that he’d be asking for her hand in marriage. Agreeing, internally, that asking for a marriage blessing was up there, on his list of things that made him feel anxious, with presenting a presentation, by himself, in front of a lecture hall and turning over the first page of his exams.

He took the opportunity whilst Persephone was out with Alfie; he’d been insistent on needing help to buy a present for his girlfriend and he felt his sister was the most trusting, with a keen eye on what teenage girls would love to get as a present for Christmas. Worrying his bottom lip, between his teeth, nibbling and chewing on the already bright pink flesh, before he’d even left the comforting confinements of the bedrooms four walls. Appearing in the kitchen entryway with shaky legs and knocking knees, a nervous smile sitting upon his lips.

“Is there anything I can help you with, YN?” He pondered in the kitchen entryway, as you looked over your shoulder, “I’m a little unoccupied without Persephone here. Thought I’d come and offer some helping hands.”

“Oh, thank you. I think we’ve got things under control, for now, sweetheart. There’s not much needing to be done. I’ve just put some cakes in the oven, Harry’s out in the garden getting a little more firewood for the fire, the twins are both out with friends. There’s a new film out in the cinema that they wanted to go and see. And Alfie and Persephone are going to stop off and get a chippy tea for dinner tonight, if that’s okay with you?” You informed him, his head nodding up and down, “how was your day?”

“Busy. I never thought London got as busy as it was today,” he chuckled, taking a seat at the dining table and crossing his ankles over, “but, it ended up being rather successful, too. We got some last minute gifts for everyone. I think I’ve done alright getting presents for Persephone. She’s really hard to buy for.”

The back door creaked open behind him, being nudged open by a booted foot, before he heard a deep puff of breath, as Harry made his way into the warm house. Fingers pale and cheeks chill-bitten and bright pink, eyes watering from the sudden pick-up of wind that howled around the trees blew leaves across the patio. A hefty pile of firewood in his arms that Jack took to helping him with. Standing to his feet, rapidly, and reaching for a couple of logs that were soon to fall from Harry’s cradle, carrying them in his own arms. A wordless thank-you being given in the form of a curt nod and a tight smile.

“Oh, goodness, tell me about it. When she was a teenager, she would always shrug when we asked her what she wanted,” you laughed, spinning on your socked heels to point him in the direction of where to place the logs for later that evening, a finger direction him through the conservatory door, “she has Harry, here, going crazy in the middle of the shops because he has no idea what she would like.”

“She’s loved every present I’ve brought for her, though. She still uses that old film camera I gave her, too. It was a present from a dear friend of mine who died a while back. Matt, his name was,” Harry explained, clearing his throat with a grunt as he bent down to drop the logs into a metal basket beside the log burner, “took it everywhere with him. When I toured with the band I was in, when we went out sightseeing together, when we had photoshoots done and such. She’s used it every opportunity she can and I think he would have been glad, maybe proud, to know his equipment was going to people who loved taking photos as much as he did.”

“She’s got a true talent for photography. We’ve got loads of photo albums, back in Southampton, of photos she’s taken from when we go out. Whether it’s nights out or when we go for a walk or when we spend time at the beach and stuff. I never know why she didn’t pursue it into something more,” Jack said, siding up to you once he reentered the kitchen and reached for the coffee mug he’d been using throughout his stay, “would you like a hot drink? Let me make them.”

The kitchen fell quiet.

All except the ticking of the timer on the cooker, as it counted down from twenty minutes, and the whistle of the kettle that he’d flicked on, seconds ago. Clinking the mugs together as he brought them down from the cupboard, dropping two teabags into two and adding a spoonful to the third. Trying everything, and anything, he could to keep his mind away from the nerves that ate away at his insides. But, no matter what he did, the both of you could easily see something that was bothering him. Sharing glances to one another before looking back at him as he stood with his back towards you, every so often adjusting his own tracksuit bottoms or rolling up the sleeves of the jumper that hung down his torso, his attention focused on the back garden.

“What’s on your mind, lad?”

Jack swung around, eyes wide, like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

“Uhm, I,” he stuttered, “is it that obvious?”

“Sweetheart, if there’s anything we can help you with, you can tell us. Yeah? We’re all family. Okay, we’re not properly related but, you’re our daughter’s boyfriend and we like to think of you as another one of our little clan,” you smile warmly in his direction before taking a couple of steps to stand beside him, squeezing his hand softly, “whatever it is, we’re all ears for when you want to tell us.”

He gave you a soft smile and nodded. The kettle coming to a boil as he lifted it from it’s dock.

“Uh, there is something I want to, hum, that I want to talk to you about, actually. Now that Persephone isn’t here,” Jack stated, focusing his mind on his shaky hand as he poured hot water into the three mugs on the counter. Harry’s eyes furrowing as you stood to the side and wracked your mind. “It’s nothing bad, I promise you. Nothing. Everything has been going so well between us. It’s just, there’s been something on my mind for the last few days, made clearer today, and I just need to talk to you about it as soon as possible.”

The spoon tinkles in each mug as he stirred the water. A rather strong aroma of coffee wafting up, in a thick puff of steam, as he stirred Harry’s drink up. You took strides across the kitchen, stepping in front of the fridge to pull out the milk from its slot in the door, sliding it across the counter and watching him, curiously, as he unscrewed the red cap and poured a little in your mug and a little into his.

“Sweetheart, sit yourself down. You’re shaking. What are you so nervous about?” You reach for the spoon to take over, bumping him to the side and insisting, with your eyebrows, that he took a seat beside Harry, who had kicked off his boots and slipped his socked feet into his old and worn-out grey slippers that he’d been wearing since the morning. You finished off the teas, adding a couple of spoonfuls of sugar to the caramel-coloured warm drink, giving them a final stir before rummaging through the cupboards for a tray to carry them on. “What’s the matter? Come on now.”

“What’s going on between the two of you?”

“I love her,” Jack whispered, looking at his hands, that sat upon the grey material of his tracksuit bottoms, as he picked at the hang-nails and cuticles of his thumbs, “God, I love her so much and I don’t have a ring yet, because I wanted to do that after I received your blessing, your permission, but I have one in mind because I’ve been looking in shops and such but, yeah, I don’t have it physically. Your permission and your blessing means a lot to me. I found an engagement ring today, when we split off to buy presents for each other, and I knew it was what I wanted to propose to her with. It’s gorgeous. Just like her. And, God, I love her. I love her so, so much. I didn’t think it was ever possible to love someone as much as I love her. She makes everything worth it. She makes me feel like I can do absolutely anything. That I can conquer the obstacles because she’s by my side and helping me out. And I promise you,” his voice shook with the nerves that ran havoc through his veins, lifting his head up from staring at his hands and forming eye contact with Harry before sending a shy smile to you, “I promise you that I’ll take care of her. I’ll try my hardest to make sure she never feels alone. That she never cries because of me. That she never has a reason to feel heartbroken or like she isn’t loved That we always make each other happy. She’s my best friend and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to grow old with her and I want to have kids with her and I want to be able to give the both of you grandchildren. I want to find us the biggest house, the house of her dreams, that she can decorate and make it her own, to live in and I want the rest of our lives to start as soon as possible because I’m so excited at the thought of her being the one that I get to wake up to everyday. That I get to- that we get to be there for each other, properly. Persephone is it for me. She’s the one for me. And I just wanted to ask, for your permission, or your blessing, if I could, you know, if I could have her hand in ma-”

“Do you even have to ask us, mate?” Harry laughed, the booming cackle interrupting and cutting Jack off from finishing his speech. Because Harry already knew how it was going to end. He’d been through the exact same process. Thinking through everything that he was going to say to prove he was worthy of your hand in marriage. Feeling nervous as he sat before the parents of the woman he wanted to, so desperately, marry. Gushing his heart and soul to them to show, just how much, he really wanted it. Reaching a flexed hand, decorated with his signature rings, across the dining table and smiling brightly when Jack took it. A flush of relief washing over the 22-year old as he puffed out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “She’s had a fair share of bad relationships in the past. And it hurt to see her come home, upset and broken, because she’d had her heart torn to pieces by a boy that she really liked. You came along and we haven’t had to worry about that. She’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her,” he tore his hand away and brought it back to wrap around his coffee mug, bringing it to his lips and taking a sip before placing it back down on the coaster, “and that’s what any parent wants, well, what every parent wants for their kids is for them to be happy. For them to be comfortable with themselves. For them to know what they’re doing and for them to take risks. For them to enjoy life without worrying about all the little things.”

Harry’s heart thumped and thumped and thumped behind his ribs. A smile on his face that came as a result of the happiness and the touch sadness that succumbed him. His daughter had found her man. She found her future in a man who she’d met, not so long ago. She found the person who made her smile, who made her heart triple in size whenever she looked at him, who made her radiate love and glow with ethereal beauty that Harry, and yourself, hadn’t seen from her before. He looked across to you, his smile spreading wider as he bumped his knee to yours, his free hand wrapping around yours and squeezing it tightly.

“You’ve truly made her the happiest we’ve ever seen her, sweetheart. It feels lovely to not have her come home heartbroken, carrying the pieces of her shattered heart in the palms of her hands, and in need of a cuddle with one of us, because a boy took advantage of her,” you admitted, reaching across the table, in a similar fashion to Harry, and squeezing his hand softly. Fingers wrapping around his as he smiled warmly in your direction. “We couldn’t think of a better person to have her, Jack. We can’t think of a better person to say yes to. To give our blessing to. You’re such a determined and motivated young man and you’ve been nothing but incredible with Persephone over the last few months. With her graduation happening, officially moving into your first home, struggling with her troubles in leaving home.”

“Not to mention, you’ve been an absolute treasure to her over the last few months, as well. Helping her with her own problems and getting her started with her first website and getting her started with her career, regardless of going back to finish your final year at university. I know it’s hard because we’re so far away from you both and can’t help her as much as she may need, but,” Harry nodded to himself, “you’ve been so great with her. You’ve had our blessing from the moment we first met you, Jack.”

A face splitting and cheek aching grin spread across his face, “really?”

“Really, really,” Harry smiled.

“When do you plan on doing it?”

“I was thinking in the new year. Maybe on New Years Eve or something like that. It’s cliché, I know, but we’ve always been into that. She's never said anything but I think it’s the perfect time to pop it. Start the new year, engaged. I still need to buy the ring or put a deposit down for it, so, that’ll take it’s time,” Jack admitted, “it’s beautiful though. It really is. I wish I took a photo to show you.”

“Let me buy it for you,” Harry offered, abrupt and sudden, “the shops shut in an hour. I’m sure Persephone and Alfie are on the tube home and getting dinner. We can-”

“No, no. Harry, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Jack shook his head, “thank you for the offer, but, I couldn’t ask for you to do that. It’s too much. You’ve welcomed me into your family, your home, you’ve allowed me the privilege of being with your daughter and you’ve given me a blessing that I feel honoured to have. I couldn’t ask of this.”

“Then at least let me help you get started? Just a small deposit to help get you on your way,” Harry hummed, “I have money going to waste, Jack. I don't know what to do with it anymore. Let me help you.”

“God, Harry, thank you. Thank you so much.”

“We should be thanking you, lad,” Harry stood to his feet and reached over, clapping Jack on the shoulder with a gentle hand, “thank you for making her the happiest she’s ever been. Thank you for making her feel as supported as she could ever feel. Thank you for loving her as much as we do.”

[feedursoull]

Jamie Oliver Official website for recipes, books, tv shows and Read Watch Campaigns Family Ministry of Food Tesco Community Cookery School Source

[chefsinschools]

The basics - life in a school kitchen

Meet Tom! Star of many of our videos and the Head Chef and Food Educator at Gayhurst Primary School – part of the Leap Federation. Tom worked as the Head Teacher at the Jamie Oliver Cookery School before joining Chefs in Schools late last year. The opportunity to teach children about food was right up Tom’s street. He also runs the kitchen at Gayhurst, planning the menus and overseeing a small team that makes and bakes everything from scratch. Together they feed over 500 hungry primary school aged children each day. When lunch has been served, Tom runs lessons for the pupils. They join him in the kitchen and learn everything from knife skills to baking.  

Tom says: “There’s no normal day but we come in and do prep for lunch. We’re always mindful about food waste, so if we’ve served up broccoli with a main, we might then do a broccoli sauce for pasta – using the leftover stalks to stop them being thrown away. We bake fresh bread, include fresh fruit in desert and always like to be creative!

“At lunchtime we have to feed 500 children and 50 adults – it’s busy! The good thing is, the hours give you a work/life balance so you have the time to plan and to be creative. You also have a good team to work with. If you have a plan and a good team, you can do anything!

“It’s very satisfying seeing the kids coming in everyday and eating the food. Sometimes there’s the challenge of getting them to try a new food but when you crack that and see them enjoy it for the first time, that’s really heart-warming and very rewarding. I also really love talking about food and I get to do it with the most enthusiastic bunch of people ever – children! It’s really a lot of fun.”

Feeling inspired? If you’re a chef looking for a new challenge, visit our website to find out how you can get involved.

[burgersinlondon-blog]

On a pretty Thursday morning we went to the Jamie Oliver Cookery school for a Vietnamese course. The American Womens Club organized it. The fun started in the train to London. Our teacher was fun, relaxed and learned us a lot about cutting techniques and the azien food. We cooked in pairs. I cooked together with my Dutch friend Marga. Loads of fun!! We got a Prosecco during cooking...and finally made a great lunch. We will definitely be back for more another course. The boys played a last tournament with the school soccerteam. They played against international schools from Israel, The Netherlands, Germany, Austria and another International school from the London area. The did not win but gad a great time. My sweet neighbor Marieke from Kloosterpark in De Bilt celebrated her 50st Bday. As a surprise, I flew to the Netherlands for 3 days. So nice to be close by now. First I visited my sister Marjon. We went with Martin to Rotterdam to the market hall. We enjoyed nice tapas with Cava. Than walked though the city till it start raining. We ended this perfect day at home with a delicious meal. It was food to spend time together. Very precious. Next day I visited the rest of the family amd went to Marieke’s party. Big surprise, and so much fun. It was a ladies-only party. Fun fun fun! I felt right at home with all the familiar faces. Like I did not left De Bilt. I stayed with Carolien and enjoyed the relaxed morning breakfast and coffee. My favorite moment, we always had together when I lived there. Coffee together in the morning or wine at the end of the day❤️

[robertogrosso]

When family is in town, we cook our meal, even when we’re out! #ravioli #tortellini #plin #cappelletti #flour #pasta #london #cookeryschool (at The Jamie Oliver Cookery School) https://www.instagram.com/p/BxAxnWgh9L2/?igshid=1hm79enmsxjvp

[oliverarditi]

Molecular anecdoty

I don’t follow cook-book publishing that closely (or indeed at all), but you can’t help noticing a few things if you work in a library. One is that we seem to have bid farewell to the conventions of my youth, where the majority of cook-books were either reference manuals, like Bee Nilson’s The Penguin Cookery Book, or regional guides, like Elizabeth David’s Mediterranean Food; we now inhabit a culino-literary landscape populated largely by thematic discussions, such as Samin Nosrat’s Salt Fat Acid Heat, or personality-led recipe collections (that are frequently TV tie-ins) like Jamie Oliver’s The Naked Chef. At the same time, the standard presentation has morphed from something resembling a novel – hand-held format, largely text – to vast, glossy, lavishly appointed orgies of food-porn that take two people to lift.

Niki Segnit’s The Flavour Thesaurus bridges some of these divides. It is a thematic reference manual, not far off novel format, and printed on the same kind of paper, without a single colour photo, and featuring only one illustration. Its theme – flavour combinations, weird and wonderful – could hardly be more modish, and Segnit makes frequent reference to those specific flavour compounds the knowledge of which has given us the (fashionable and reviled) term ‘molecular gastronomy’. It is also written in an informally anecdotal style that would probably have been horrifying to the likes of Elizabeth David, but it is nevertheless something of an old-school volume. For one thing, writing is at the heart of its writing: Segnit treats its creation as a work of literary production – rather than the sort of team-based Hollywood-style collaboration that brings most contemporary cook-books into existence. As such, she situates herself in a long and rich tradition from which the commercial mainstream of culinary publishing seems to have largely become detached.

The book is organised around the large flavour wheel which is partially visible on the cover. This wheel is not quite as systematic as the colour wheel from which it derives, or as other similar devices in other fields, such as the circle of fifths in tonal music, but it offers an effective guide to Segnit’s take on flavour affinities. It also serves as the table of contents, with each ingredient, within each sector of the wheel, the subject of a chapter, in which it is indexed alphabetically against whichever other ingredients Segnit found interesting or remarkable. Sometimes what she has to say has little or nothing to do with combining the two flavours, like her discussion of the symbolism of eggs and peppers in Italian-American criminal subculture, or her observation that studding an orange with cloves resembles the pleasure that Nicholson Baker describes in The Size of Thoughts, of writing on an eraser with a ballpoint pen. At other times she offers a bare sentence or two, and at others, an entire recipe – or on one occasion a poem (heavily indebted to Theodor Geisel). 

Segnit’s cultural frame of reference can at times seem a little baffling. She claims there’s something about the combination of blue cheese and truffle ‘that feels like wearing  a low-cut top and a short skirt’; I had to ask Spouse whether this was a good thing or a bad thing, and she informed me it was the closest sartorial equivalent to burning in hell for all eternity (which also reflects her opinion of blue cheese), so I can only assume that Segnit is advising us against ever combining these two ingredients. But joking aside (I jest), she seems to have rather more anecdotes to hand regarding stumbling across some marvellous place in Tuscany or Provence than in Benidorm or Clacton, and rather more detailed knowledge of caviar than of Greggs’ meat pies. She doesn’t scruple to stoop to cola or hot-dogs, mind; it just gets a bit wearing how little she seems to notice her own privilege.

This book is a corrective to most of the things I find tiresome about contemporary culinary publishing. Not only is it clearly and exclusively the work of a knowledgeable writer, it is designed to be of practical use for the creative domestic cook with a well-stocked store cupboard, rather than someone who wants to go out and buy precisely what they’ve been told they need by A Recipe. It is also presented in a far more practical format than most cook-books, and as it is not printed on heavy, gloss paper, it is possible to lift it with one hand without risking tendonitis. Segnit is not, as far as I know, a professional chef, but she is clearly far better informed than the average lay-person, and has put as much work into researching this book as she has into writing it. It is likely to be my close companion in the kitchen, and it has been a real pleasure to read.

[vitalovebaby]

Had a lunchtime cook up with the maestro @gennarocontaldo @jamiesitalianuk What a dude. Fresh pasta with meatballs and 7 veg sauce. From their kids' menu. All organic. All delicious. And totally free! Throughout August #KidsEatFree at all their restaurants. I might move in with my 3. 🍅 The gf pasta for anyone interested was also made by them and not a chewy soggy sadness at all! (at The Jamie Oliver Cookery School)

[cocinasabrosa]

Tesco Community Cookery School with Jamie Oliver Teaching over 1,000 community cooks how to stop good food going to waste

[rasppberri]

Waste-Reducing Cooking Schools - Tesco's Community Cookery School Repurposes Surplus Food (TrendHunter.com)

(TrendHunter.com) The Tesco Community Cookery School program supported by Jamie Oliver is a new initiative that helps to educate thousands of community cooks on how surplus food donations may be used to prevent... source http://www.trendhunter.com/trends/cookery-school

[zarahoffman]

Waste-Reducing Cooking Schools - Tesco's Community Cookery School Repurposes Surplus Food (TrendHunter.com)

(TrendHunter.com) The Tesco Community Cookery School program supported by Jamie Oliver is a new initiative that helps to educate thousands of community cooks on how surplus food donations may be used to prevent... source http://www.trendhunter.com/trends/cookery-school

[dtmco]

Learning to cook Vietnamese street food with @jamieolivercookeryschool. Thank you @lesleyvpearce. 🙌🏻 — #london #foodlondon #everydayisaschoolday (at The Jamie Oliver Cookery School)