“I think the basic technique of choux pastry is a prime example of why cooking never loses its shine for me. It reminds me of the continuous mirror images that fascinated me as a child, a constantly repeating effect. But with choux it is always tumbling …”

For one half of The Saturday Paper’s food editing team, the gruelling hours and stressful conditions of cooking for others eventually took its toll – both mentally and physically. Then she decided it was time to regain control.

“There is something magical about the relationship between flesh, salt and fat. Long before refrigeration and factory farming, there was a time and a place for the life of an animal to end and its flesh to be preserved for the coming months. I have a great …”

“This potato terrine appeared on our menu over the weekend of our local celebration of the potato and such was the response to this unlikely hero that it reappeared the following week, a fate that has befallen no other entree in five years of operation. …”

“Pithivier is more a work of design than an absolute on how and what it’s made of. There are a few absolutes, though. It must be made with puff pastry. It must be circular. And it must have the rays of the sun etched into the top of the pastry so that, …”

“I came across this recipe some years ago and it has become my favourite to move on to once I’m over the ‘sweet’ quince thing. It features Persian overtones, Moroccan influences and rich flavours that are perfect as the nights get colder.”

“There’s nothing like an impending ‘state occasion’ such as Mother’s Day to bring out the wannabe cake-maker in me. While this recipe looks disturbingly long and convoluted, it’s actually very simple. The base recipe is a version of chocolate …”

“The tiny spud-pickers’ cottages dotted around the farms are testimony to a world where creature comforts were non-existent. And now at the beginning of May each year, when the harvest of potatoes is settling into full swing and the temperature is starting …”

“I grew up eating fantastic crepes. My mother was a dab hand at them, and I would wait at her elbow as she twisted and turned and rolled the batter around in her special crepe pans. Every so often she would flip a warm crepe onto my plate, on which I would …”