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Kitchen in the Wild – Old Friends, New Faces and Some Serious Culinary Pedigree

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Having finally arrived on Eilean Shona, it was time to exchange the relative solitude of several days exploring Scotland for something rather different.

People, and not just any people, as it turned out.

One of the things I’d been looking forward to most about Kitchen in the Wild was the opportunity to catch up with some familiar faces. I’d previously attended another event with Valentine Warner, Clare Isaacs and Nick Strangeway, so there was a lovely sense of returning to something I already knew would be rather special.

There is something reassuring about arriving somewhere remote and discovering a few old friends, particularly when those friends happen to include a celebrated chef, one of Britain’s most accomplished food-event organisers and a man who knows more about making a proper cocktail than most of us will ever know about drinking one!

Although I’m perfectly prepared to continue my research into the latter!

The atmosphere was wonderfully informal from the outset. This wasn’t going to be one of those rather stiff culinary experiences where guests sit reverentially while a famous chef presents something impossibly small on an enormous plate, Kitchen in the Wild operates on a different philosophy altogether.

It’s about bringing people together in extraordinary surroundings, sharing food, stories, experiences and an enthusiasm for the natural world. The boundaries between chefs, hosts, artists and guests are deliberately relaxed, creating something closer to a particularly well-organised house party, albeit a house party where the catering arrangements are in an entirely different league.

And the more I discovered about the people who had gathered on Eilean Shona, the more I appreciated just how unusual this particular collection of talent really was.

Valentine Warner and Clare Isaacs – The Masterminds

At the heart of it all were Valentine Warner and Clare Isaacs, founder of wearesprout.

Val is considerably more than a television chef. A trained artist who subsequently pursued cooking, he became widely known through his BBC series What to Eat Now, bringing an infectious enthusiasm for seasonal ingredients, fishing, foraging and the pleasures of cooking things that actually taste of where they come from. His books ( I own all 6 ) and broadcasting have consistently explored the relationship between food and the natural environment. He’s equally at home discussing an unusual wild mushroom, the merits of a particular fish or the botanical complexities of a good gin, which makes him an ideal person to spend several days with on a remote Scottish island.

Clare, meanwhile, possesses a rather extraordinary talent for making seemingly improbable culinary adventures actually happen.

After a decade working in the music industry, she helped pioneer the idea of putting chefs centre stage at festivals. Her subsequent career has included overseeing the food programme at Wilderness, bringing the celebrated Meatopia festival to London and Dublin, and collaborating with Valentine on Kitchen on the Edge in Norway’s spectacular Lofoten Islands.

Through wearesprout, she has developed an impressive international network of chefs, artists, makers and hospitality professionals, creating intimate food-led experiences in remarkable locations. The fact that we were all about to spend several days together on a private Scottish island was testament to that ability. And she make a perfect Earl Grey with Lemon, (thanks Sprout).

I suspect Clare could organise a Michelin-starred dinner halfway up Ben Nevis if somebody gave her sufficient notice.

Possibly even without it.

Nick Strangeway – An Old Friend and a Very Good Reason to Have a Cocktail

Another familiar face was Nick Strangeway, whose presence made the gathering feel even more like a reunion.

Nick is something of a legend in British cocktail circles, although I suspect he’d be happier being called a bartender than a mixologist.

Having worked alongside the influential Dick Bradsell during the emergence of London’s modern cocktail scene, Nick went on to establish an international reputation for his knowledge of spirits, flavour and the history of drinks. In 2008, he was named International Bartender of the Year at Tales of the Cocktail.

He’s also one of the co-founders of Hepple Spirits, alongside Val and their fellow collaborators, creating remarkable spirits inspired by the wild juniper and other botanicals growing on the Hepple Estate in Northumberland. Hepple Gin was to form a component of many of the unique and stunning cocktails we were to sample over the coming days. It’s a fascinating meeting of science, nature and traditional distilling, demonstrating that a gin can be every bit as considered and ingredient-driven as a dish prepared by a great chef.

Having enjoyed Nick’s company at a previous event, I was particularly pleased to see him again. I should probably clarify that this was entirely because of his delightful personality and not simply because he makes exceptionally good drinks.

Although the two are, admittedly, difficult to separate.

Nathan Outlaw – A Master of Seafood

Our special guest chef was Nathan Outlaw, one of Britain’s most highly regarded seafood specialists.

Nathan’s restaurants in Port Isaac, Cornwall, have earned international acclaim, with his cooking built around an uncompromising commitment to the quality, sustainability and seasonality of British fish and shellfish. His flagship restaurant, Outlaw’s New Road, has held two Michelin stars, an achievement that places him amongst the country’s most distinguished chefs.

What makes his approach particularly appealing is its apparent simplicity. Rather than overwhelming an exceptional ingredient with unnecessary complications, Nathan allows the fish itself to remain the centre of attention, using carefully judged combinations of flavour, texture and technique.

It’s an approach that requires enormous skill. There is, after all, nowhere to hide when the principal attraction is a beautifully cooked piece of fish. Nathan and Valentine are also longstanding friends, having previously travelled and cooked together for their television series Hook It, Cook It.

Reuniting them on an island surrounded by Scotland’s magnificent coastal waters seemed an inspired idea.

Jon Spiteri – A Man Who Helped Change British Dining

Then there was Jon Spiteri.

Now, for anybody with an interest in the history of modern British restaurants, this was a particularly significant addition to the gathering. Jon was one of the three original founders of St. JOHN, alongside chef Fergus Henderson and restaurateur Trevor Gulliver. Before its opening, Jon had managed the dining room above Soho’s famous French House, where Fergus and Margot Henderson had established a devoted following.

In October 1994, Jon, Fergus and Trevor opened St. JOHN in a former smokehouse near Smithfield Market in London, what followed was nothing short of a culinary revolution.

St. JOHN became internationally celebrated for its pioneering nose-to-tail philosophy, championing traditional British cooking, forgotten cuts, offal and a respect for the entire animal at a time when much of fashionable restaurant culture was heading in a very different direction. Bone marrow and parsley salad became one of its defining dishes, while its uncompromisingly straightforward approach to food helped influence an entire generation of chefs.

It remains one of London’s most important and distinctive restaurants. Jon wasn’t simply somebody who had worked there.

He had helped create it, rather extraordinary company for dinner, I thought.

Johnny Kiernan – The Next Generation of St. JOHN Thinking

There was another interesting connection in the shape of chef Johnny Kiernan.

Johnny’s professional background includes working at St. JOHN, Rochelle Canteen and Llewelyn’s, three establishments associated with thoughtful, ingredient-led British cooking. He subsequently became Head Chef at Lettice Events, developing his experience across intimate private dining, weddings and large-scale culinary events, before establishing himself independently.

His cooking celebrates seasonal produce, generosity and an uncomplicated appreciation of good ingredients. What particularly appealed to me was having Jon and Johnny together in the same gathering.

One had helped establish St. JOHN and its influential philosophy; the other represented a later generation of chefs who had worked within that tradition and carried its principles into their own cooking.

A rather lovely continuity.

And certainly more interesting than discovering that two people at a dinner party happened to have attended the same school!

Tim Barnes – The Talent Behind Outlaw’s Fish Kitchen

Also amongst the culinary talent was Christian Timothy Barnes, known as Tim.

Tim’s career is an excellent example of what can happen when natural ability meets an opportunity and a great mentor. He originally joined Nathan Outlaw’s operation as a kitchen porter, gradually became involved in food preparation and, encouraged by Nathan, undertook formal training as a chef. He progressed through the business to become Head Chef at the Michelin-starred Outlaw’s Fish Kitchen in Port Isaac, taking responsibility for the day-to-day running of one of Cornwall’s most respected seafood restaurants.

That is quite a journey.

Working so closely with Nathan, Tim has developed an intimate understanding of seafood cookery, the importance of exceptional produce and the precision required to deliver consistently outstanding food. It also demonstrated that Kitchen in the Wild hadn’t simply assembled a collection of famous names.

There was serious culinary expertise throughout the team, including people whose work normally happens behind the scenes rather than in front of television cameras.

Anna Koska – Bringing the Natural World to Life

Next in this remarkable collection of talents was Anna Koska, the acclaimed natural-history artist and illustrator.

Anna has spent more than 25 years capturing the extraordinary beauty and intricacy of fruit, vegetables, plants, animals and the natural world, illustrating more than 100 books along the way.

Working in watercolour, pen and ink, oils and especially ‘egg tempera‘, she produces exquisitely detailed images that combine artistic sensitivity with the observational precision of a natural historian.

Her own books, From Field & Forest and From Coast & Cove, explore the changing seasons and the sometimes overlooked details of the British countryside and coastline.

I particularly liked the inclusion of an artist amongst so many culinary professionals, as it reinforced the idea that Kitchen in the Wild wasn’t simply about eating.

It was about looking more closely, appreciating the environment, understanding ingredients and perhaps rediscovering some of the curiosity about the natural world that everyday life has a habit of squeezing out of us.

Although, given my own artistic abilities, I suspected any attempt to draw a recognisable botanical specimen might result in something resembling a particularly distressed cabbage.

Matt Waterston – A Life Less Ordinary, Preferably Outdoors

And completing this rather extraordinary gathering was Matt Waterston, an experienced outdoor adventurer, sea-kayaking and mountain guide, and founder of MW Guiding.

Matt’s relationship with the great outdoors goes considerably beyond enjoying the occasional pleasant walk. His adventures have included cycling across Canada and living in the Arctic, although despite exploring some of the world’s most remarkable landscapes, he’s remained convinced that Scotland’s west coast takes some beating.

An opinion I was rapidly coming to share.

Based near Arisaig, Matt established MW Guiding in 2021, specialising in bespoke adventures across the western Highlands and surrounding coastline. His activities range from guided sea-kayaking expeditions and overnight bothy trips to mountain walking, Munro ascents, mountain biking and wildlife encounters.

Rather more ambitious, I suspect, than my occasional stroll around the garden to inspect the progress of the tomatoes.

What makes Matt particularly interesting, however, is his connection with the landscape itself.

Together with his wife Hannah, he featured in Tide Life, a beautifully filmed short documentary produced by the internationally respected paddlesports company NRS. The film explores their life on Scotland’s west coast, their passion for the surrounding environment and the extraordinary relationship between the landscape and those who choose to make it their home.

Matt also knows Eilean Shona and its surrounding waters particularly well. His previous guided kayaking trips around the island have included encounters with its resident wildlife, including seals and their pups, offering visitors an entirely different perspective on this remarkable environment.

There was something rather reassuring about having someone with that level of experience leading our outdoor explorations, after all, I had already demonstrated a remarkable ability to complicate a straightforward lunch stop, so allowing somebody else to take responsibility for navigating the Scottish wilderness seemed an entirely sensible arrangement.

Together, Matt and Anna Koska brought a wonderful additional dimension to Kitchen in the Wild.

Anna’s extraordinary artistic eye reveals the intricate beauty of plants, animals, fish and the changing seasons, while Matt’s experience provides an opportunity to get out into the landscape and appreciate those things in their natural surroundings.

One helping us look more closely, the other helping us explore more deeply and both reinforcing something that makes Kitchen in the Wild rather special: exceptional food may bring everyone together, but the surrounding natural world is every bit as important to the experience.

Although I was still very much looking forward to dinner!

A Rather Extraordinary House Party

Taken together, this was an exceptional gathering.

A chef and broadcaster whose enthusiasm for wild food has inspired countless people; an event creator who has brought together some of the world’s finest culinary talent; a Michelin-starred seafood master; one of the founding figures behind one of Britain’s most influential restaurants; outstanding chefs from its wider culinary tradition; an internationally celebrated drinks expert; and an artist whose work reveals the natural world in exquisite detail.

And here they all were, on a small island off Scotland’s western coast, sharing their knowledge, cooking, conversation and enthusiasm with a relatively intimate group of guests.

The remarkable thing was how relaxed it all felt.

There was no sense of being separated from the experts or attending a succession of formal demonstrations. We were simply going to spend time together, exploring, eating, drinking, learning and undoubtedly enjoying a fair amount of laughter along the way. For me, the added pleasure of catching up with Valentine, Clare and Nick made it feel like renewing an old acquaintance, while meeting the others promised a fascinating few days ahead.

The only slight problem was remembering everybody’s name.

I had spent months researching five thousand years of Scottish history, producing detailed guides and memorising the locations of prehistoric monuments scattered across Argyll, yet introduce me to six people in quick succession, on top of the 15+ guests some traveling as far as America and my brain apparently decides that names are entirely optional information. Still, I felt sure we’d all become properly acquainted soon enough, particularly with several days of extraordinary food and wine ahead.

And our first evening was about to begin in considerable style.

Valentine Warner was in the kitchen.

The menu had arrived.

And the opening dinner suggested that nobody was planning to ease us gently into the proceedings.

Welcome to Kitchen in the Wild.

Let the feasting commence.

The First Evening – Valentine Sets the Table

With introductions underway, luggage deposited and the first awkward moments of meeting a roomful of new people gradually disappearing, we gathered for our opening dinner at Eilean Shona House.

There is something rather lovely about the first supper of an experience like this. Everyone arrives with different expectations, different backgrounds and, in my case, a slightly unreliable grasp of everybody’s names. Yet bring people together around a table, offer them something good to drink and serve a beautiful meal, and conversation generally takes care of itself.

The house provided a wonderful setting. Its comfortable sitting room, warm lighting, painted timber walls and relaxed atmosphere made it feel less like arriving at a hotel and more like being welcomed into a particularly interesting private home.

And this evening, Valentine Warner was responsible for dinner.

The printed menu was a promising piece of reading in its own right.

It brought together seafood, game, autumnal ingredients and some intriguing combinations of flavours, accompanied by carefully chosen wines and cocktails. No decisions to make, no menu anxiety and no wondering whether somebody else’s choice would turn out to be better.

For once, I was entirely happy to relinquish control.

A Little Something to Begin

The evening opened with three distinctly different canapés: beef tartare and smoked oyster, a mussel and saffron empanada, and a rosehip gimlet to sip.

The pairing of beef tartare with smoked oyster was particularly intriguing. Beef and oyster have a long culinary association, but introducing smoke to the oyster added another savoury dimension to the combination: the richness of the beef meeting the saline character of the shellfish.

The mussel and saffron empanada offered something quite different, bringing together sweet shellfish, the distinctive perfume of saffron and the pleasure of a pastry-wrapped mouthful.

And then there was the rosehip gimlet.

With Nick Strangeway amongst our company, drinks were always likely to be rather more interesting than a hurried gin and tonic. The inclusion of rosehip seemed especially appropriate for October in the Highlands, drawing upon an ingredient associated with hedgerows, autumn and the natural world beyond the windows.

It was an assured beginning. A few carefully considered flavours, an excellent drink and the promise of considerably more to follow.

Grilled Squid, Chermoula and Romesco

Our first plated course was grilled squid with chermoula and romesco sauce, accompanied by Corvers Kauter Baiken Riesling 2024 from Germany’s Rheingau.

The dish was presented with a pleasing lack of fuss, its components gathered in the centre of a beautiful, pale ceramic bowl. Beneath the golden topping and squid lay the warm reddish tones of the romesco, with a little of the dressing collecting around the base.

The choice of accompaniments was inspired.

The two sauces made particularly good companions for the squid. Chermoula brought the fragrant, citrus-led freshness of North African cooking, with its lively combination of herbs, garlic and warm spices. Romesco offered a contrasting character: roasted red peppers, garlic and nuts creating a rich, gently smoky sauce with a mellow peppery warmth and just enough acidity to keep everything lively.

Together, they gave the delicately sweet grilled squid a wonderful balance of freshness, depth and warmth, each contributing something quite different without overwhelming the seafood.

Together, they provided a wonderful contrast to the delicacy of the squid.

The Riesling was an equally thoughtful choice. Its freshness and aromatic character made it a natural companion for seafood and the mildly spicy Romesco and assertive herbal flavours.

It was a dish that neatly illustrated Valentine’s approach to cooking: ingredients and influences drawn from different places, brought together through an understanding of what makes them work, with a bit of punch.

By this point, I was very much looking forward to what came next.

Duck, Cep Sauce and a Magnificent Platter

The main course was announced simply enough:

Duck with cep sauce, pommes frites, and frisée and walnut salad.

What arrived at the table, however, was rather more spectacular than those few words might suggest.

Several generous platters of duck appeared, beautifully browned skin gleaming in the dining-room light. The breasts had been carefully carved into thick slices, revealing the rosy meat beneath, while the legs retained their wonderfully crisp-looking skin.

Presented together on handsome blue-and-white platters, it was an exceptionally appetising sight.

There is something deeply satisfying about this style of serving. Rather than individual portions emerging from the kitchen as identical little arrangements, the food arrived as a magnificent centrepiece to be shared.

It immediately became part of the occasion.

The duck was accompanied by a cep sauce, bringing the rich, earthy, woodland character of porcini mushrooms to the meat. It was a wonderfully appropriate autumnal combination, particularly given our location amongst Eilean Shona’s extensive woodland.

Alongside came pommes frites and a frisée and walnut salad. The crisp, slightly bitter leaves and walnuts provided contrast to the richness of the duck, while the chips fulfilled their traditional and thoroughly important responsibility of making an excellent meal even better.

The accompanying red was Domaine Coursodon Saint-Joseph ‘Silice’ Rouge 2023, from France’s northern Rhône Valley.

Made from Syrah, Saint-Joseph is particularly well suited to dishes of this character, its savoury, peppery qualities providing a lovely partner for duck and the earthy depth of the cep sauce.

A glorious main course, generous, beautifully presented and entirely without unnecessary complication.

It is sometimes easy to forget, amid the more theatrical end of modern gastronomy, just how wonderful a plate of properly cooked meat, an excellent sauce and good potatoes can be.

Not that I have ever needed much persuading on the subject of potatoes!

Peach, Bay and Sea Buckthorn

Dessert brought the evening back towards the wilder, more botanical influences that make Kitchen in the Wild so distinctive.

The menu described it as peach roulade with bay and sea buckthorn, followed by the flavours of sea buckthorn, whisky and cacao.

The roulade arrived in a pale ceramic bowl, topped with glossy, amber-coloured peach and surrounded by a rich-looking sauce.

It was an interesting combination.

Peach offers fragrant, familiar sweetness, but bay and sea buckthorn introduce rather less conventional flavours. Bay has a gentle aromatic quality that can be surprisingly effective in sweet preparations, while sea buckthorn, with its vivid orange berries and pronounced sharpness, brings an unmistakable brightness.

Native to parts of Britain’s coastline, sea buckthorn is one of those ingredients that seems particularly appropriate to an event celebrating the relationship between food and landscape.

The addition of whisky and cacao to the final flavour combination gave the dessert a distinctly grown-up character.

It was a fitting conclusion to a menu that had moved confidently between land and sea, familiar pleasures and more adventurous ingredients.

More Than Just a Dinner

By now, the room had settled into the comfortable rhythm of a very good evening. Conversation was flowing, plates had been cleared, and those tentative first introductions had given way to the sort of relaxed exchange that only seems to happen when people are gathered around a long table with no immediate reason to leave it.

What struck me most was the atmosphere, for all the remarkable professional achievements represented in the room, there was none of the formality that sometimes accompanies high-profile food events.

Everyone was simply there to enjoy themselves, share their enthusiasm and take part in something rather special.

And behind the scenes, of course, an enormous amount of work was taking place.

Valentine’s dinner might have carried his name, but creating an experience of this quality requires a considerable supporting cast: skilled chefs preparing and finishing dishes, people ensuring service flows effortlessly, those organising drinks, looking after guests, managing the house and dealing with the thousand-and-one practical details that most of us never even notice.

The best hospitality has a wonderful way of making all that effort appear almost invisible.

Over the coming days, I would come to appreciate that aspect of Kitchen in the Wild just as much as the food itself, particularly the people who seemed capable of producing a cup of Earl Grey at precisely the moment I began thinking one might be rather nice.

An essential skill, and one that deserves considerably more recognition in the hospitality industry.

But for now, I was simply enjoying the moment.

Outside, darkness had settled over Loch Moidart. The mainland, the car, the maps and my increasingly ambitious sightseeing itinerary were all somewhere behind me. I had finally arrived on Eilean Shona.

The food had been exceptional, the company fascinating and the setting every bit as atmospheric as I’d hoped, and this was only the first evening.

After nineteen months of anticipation, Kitchen in the Wild had begun in considerable style. Tomorrow would bring our first full day on the island, with time to discover more of its extraordinary landscape, wildlife and culinary possibilities, and for once, I had absolutely no intention of making an itinerary.

Well, perhaps not a printed one.

………………….. Until Next Time ………….. L8ers ……………..

Cooking With The Amazing Valentina Harris At Richard Bertinets’ Cookery School

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We had just returned home from an unforgettable family adventure in Tunisia, joined by our son and his childhood best friend. Throughout our stay, Tunisian hospitality enveloped us, and we delighted in extraordinary local cuisine while soaking up the golden North African sunlight. During the trip, I broke from our routine for a day and spent treasured hours with a local family, wandering through vibrant markets and discovering the art of preparing traditional dishes – the experience offered a genuine glimpse into everyday Tunisian life. Free from work distractions after removing all notifications from my phone, I fully savoured these moments with loved ones.

Back at home, an intriguing email awaited in my personal inbox, gently signalling my return from the warmth and vibrancy of Tunisia to familiar surroundings.

On Tuesday, September 16, 2025, 1:17 pm, The Bertinet Kitchen <bertinet@bertinet.com> wrote:

Hello 

We do hope you are well.

We have places available on the following fantastic class and we wondered if you would like to join us:- 

Regional Italian Cooking – A Day in Sicily with Valentina Harris Saturday 20th September 10am 

Here are some details about the course:-

Throughout this course, Valentina will share her extensive knowledge and passion for Italian cooking, guiding you through a variety of authentic recipes that showcase the unique flavours and ingredients from the largest Mediterranean island of Sicily.

You can expect to delight in dishes along with Valentina’s impressive knowledge and anecdotes in this hands on cooking class with the best of Italian produce to the fore.  The menu is based around a traditional Italian feast with antipasto, primi, secondi, contorno and dolce, with dishes including zuppetta di cozze (little mussel soup), zucca in agrodolce alla Siciliana (sweet and sour Sicilian pumpkin), scaloppine al marsala and a gelato alla nocciola with hazelnut meringues.

This course promises to enhance your culinary skills and inspire your love for Italian cuisine. You will emerge armed with knowledge, recipes, skill, and plenty of tips for cooking an array of delectable Italian dishes.

Valentina is our regular Italian tutor and has taught at the Kitchen for many years. She is a noted and much loved authority on Italian cooking and author of over 60 books on Italian cookery including Pasta Galore and Italian Regional Cooking, a culinary tour of Italy.  She appears regularly on TV, including her own series Italian Regional Cookery.

What a stroke of luck – the email arrived on Tuesday afternoon, and the cookery class was set for that Saturday at Richard Bertinet’s renowned school in Bath. Over time, courses at The Bertinet Kitchen have provided me with opportunities to learn from a diverse line-up of acclaimed chefs, each bringing their own unique approach and expertise.

My connection with Richard was further deepened at Kitchen on the Edge of the World in Norway in 2023, where he was among the many talented professionals leading workshops and inspiring fellow participants. Experiences like these – whether in Bath or on distant shores – have broadened my appreciation for food, learning, and the sense of community that comes from sharing it all together.

Italian food has always held a special place in my heart – especially the soulful, regional dishes that define each area beyond just pizza, unless I’m lucky enough to be dining in Italy itself, in Naples, the Pizza’s traditional home. My first true overseas cooking adventure took me to captivating Puglia in 2013, where I stayed for a week, at the enchanting organic farm Masseria Montenapoleone.

There, days unfolded amidst the beauty of the olive groves and historic stone walls, exploring the time-honoured rhythms of Italian family life. I rolled my own pasta under the guidance of my passionate host, visited local artisans crafting mozzarella, burrata, and ricotta using centuries-old techniques, and witnessed the pride that goes into every bottle of olive oil.

Each meal we prepared or ate – whether in the kitchen, at a sun-dappled table, or during lively market outings – became an invitation to share in traditions that are equal parts hospitality, flavour, and joy. The experience not only deepened my appreciation for Puglian cuisine but also left me with memories as rich and enduring as the land itself.

Sicilian cuisine was not familiar to me, so the opportunity to spend time with an expert was not to be missed, I quickly responded with a ‘yes please’.

Stepping through the doors of The Bertinet Kitchen for my eleventh visit, I felt the familiar excitement settle in. Upstairs, the inviting shop brimmed with beautiful kitchen tools. books and artisan treats, while downstairs the school buzzed with energy, ready for a new day of learning.

Jen, the ever-enthusiastic head of the kitchen team, had orchestrated every detail with ease, and Valentina was there to greet us with her signature warmth and expertise. The kitchen itself – bright, fully equipped, and set for discovery – welcomed each guest with an array of refreshments, including Richard’s legendary homemade bread and preserves, a testament to the school’s love of real food and hospitality.

As I introduced myself to the group I’d be spending the day with, there was a sense of camaraderie from the outset, everyone united by a shared anticipation for learning, laughter, and unforgettable flavours. Each visit somehow feels even more special than the last

Valentina Harris welcomed us with her trademark warmth and a storyteller’s flair – qualities honed over decades as one of Britain’s true ambassadors for authentic Italian cuisine. With roots tracing back to the Sforza dynasty of Milan and a childhood steeped in the flavours and rituals of her Anglo-Italian family,

Valentina truly embodies the living spirit of Italy at the table. Her deep respect for tradition is matched by extraordinary expertise, evident in her authorship of more than 50 acclaimed books covering the rich tapestry of Italian cooking. As a chef, educator, and broadcaster, she has left an indelible mark on food lovers across the world.

Beyond her impressive career in food media and teaching, Valentina has played an important role in empowering women in the culinary professions. The London chapter of Les Dames d’Escoffier – an international philanthropic organization dedicated to supporting women in food, beverage, and hospitality – was launched by Dame Sue Carter with essential contributions from Valentina and Marianne Fitzpatrick (Lumb) in 2010. Through her work with the chapter, Valentina continues to foster professional growth and camaraderie, mentoring culinary talent and celebrating the achievements of women in the industry.

During our Sicilian cookery day, Valentina’s guidance transformed a hands-on class into a memorable exploration of regional cuisine. She led us through a heartfelt menu celebrating the flavours of Sicily: Zuppetta di Cozze, a delicate little mussel soup; crisp Polpette di Funghi; fiery L’Arrabbiata; sweet-and-sour Zucca in Agrodolce; and comforting Riso e Melanzane alla Palermitana. The meal finished with cloud-like Spumette di Nocciola and silky hazelnut gelato. Each explanation brought Italian hospitality to life, turning recipes into living acts of memory, generosity, and shared celebration.

A day spent at The Bertinet Kitchen is always a joy, but this occasion was exceptional in both flavour and fellowship. Valentina Harris brought every recipe to life, weaving together stories from her rich culinary heritage with practical lessons and approachable expertise. The array of Sicilian dishes we prepared showcased the inventive contrasts and traditions of the region – nowhere more striking than the pairing of fiery L’Arrabbiata with the sweet-and-sour Zucca in Agrodolce.

The Riso e Melanzane alla Palermitana was a genuine highlight – a harmonious layering of silky aubergine, tender rice, vibrant tomato sauce and melting cheese. Each bite offered a blend of savoury depth, subtle sweetness, and creamy richness, the ingredients melding together to create a dish that was both comforting and bursting with flavour. Its appeal lay in the balance of texture and taste: the smoky aubergine and bright tomato perfectly complemented by the indulgent cheese and fragrant rice – a celebration of Sicilian home cooking at its most delicious.

After those vibrant, savoury courses, dessert was an event in itself: Valentina led us through crafting spumette di nocciola – light hazelnut meringues – and a silky hazelnut gelato made by toasting hazelnuts, making a praline with caramel and the nuts, cooling, and then blitzing before adding to a velvety crème anglaise base. The roasty sweetness of the gelato, paired with the delicate meringues, closed the meal with pure Sicilian spirit and unmistakable finesse.

The entire experience was a reminder of the thoughtful environment Richard Bertinet and his team foster at the school: a place where learning is hands-on, the ingredients shine, and every dish becomes a celebration of skill and community. Sharing the table over such memorable fare, with laughter and conversation flowing (and plenty of matching wine), gave the day lasting resonance.

As I look ahead to next month’s adventure at Rick Stein’s Cookery School in Padstow, the lessons and inspiration gathered from this brilliant Sicilian feast at Bertinet’s will travel with me – reinforcing just how rewarding it is to cook, taste, and learn in great company.

………………………………….Until next time L8ers………………………………..

نهار زين طيبنا مع عايلة تونسية في سوسة A Beautiful Day Cooking With a Tunisian Family in Sousse

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I rose before dawn, the gentle promise of a Tuesday awakening, the fourth day of my fifth journey to Tunisia – a country whose sun-drenched memories began for me on my twenty-first birthday. While others celebrated with fleeting parties and the haze of hangovers, I chose a week wrapped in the golden warmth of 27 to 30 degrees, wandering timeless corridors beneath El Jem’s ancient arches and tracing cinematic dreams at the Star Wars set at Matmata. There’s a quiet magic here; each return only deepens my fascination for this mystical country.

Our hotel was north of Port El Kantaoui, the port had just been completed the 1st time I travelled here nearly 40 years ago, we were staying in Sousse, but visited the port on one of our days out.

Port El Kantaoui, just north of Sousse, stands as one of Tunisia’s most ambitious tourism projects—a meticulously planned resort born from a vision to transform the nation’s appeal for international visitors. Inspired by the allure of Western Mediterranean marinas, its creation in the late 1970s drew on chic Moorish design and an artificial harbour as the centrepiece, instantly setting it apart from the more traditional hospitality found in Sousse’s city centre.

Before Port El Kantaoui, Sousse’s hotels primarily catered to classic beachgoers and travellers eager to soak up local sights, but this integrated resort marked a turning point—ushering in an era of luxury, modern amenities, and a distinctively European flavour in Tunisian tourism. The impact on the region has been profound: not only did it redefine the local hotel scene and create thousands of new tourism jobs, but it also established Sousse as a year-round destination for package holidays and marina lifestyles.

Today, Port El Kantaoui’s elegant streets and bustling quays continue to attract visitors seeking a fusion of North African warmth and Mediterranean sophistication.

I was welcomed by the delightful Nabil at 09:30, with booking and communication made effortless thanks to Tunisian Flavour – a true pleasure from start to finish. My culinary day was private, just for me, although there’s always the option to join a group if that suits your style. As someone whose enthusiasm sometimes overflows, I cherish the chance to immerse myself in tours or classes alone, allowing me to absorb every moment.

After parking, and before we entered the storied lanes of the Medina, I was invited to select the day’s menu from a dazzling list of thirty Tunisian dishes. The decision set the tone for our adventure. Among the offerings was Tajine Malsouka – a much-loved treasure of Tunisian cuisine, reminiscent of a quiche but wrapped in delicate malsouka pastry, crisped to golden perfection and filled with a savoury mixture of chicken, lamb, eggs, cheese, and fresh herbs. Another tempting choice was Nwasser, a cherished Tunisian pasta delicately cut into tiny squares, steamed until perfectly tender, and often served beneath a blanket of succulent chicken in rich tomato sauce, with chickpeas and vibrant vegetables woven through. That lingering moment of selecting my dishes before entering the Medina set a gentle rhythm for the day – one shaped by flavour, tradition, and the warmth of shared experience.

My menu reflected my longing for authenticity. Ojja was to be the star: beloved in Tunisia, this dish features eggs gently poached in a fiery tomato sauce, with green peppers, onions, and plenty of harissa. Most famously paired with merguez sausages, ojja brings together the hearty notes of cumin, paprika, and garlic, bubbling away until perfect for scooping up with crusty bread – a true celebration of Tunisian home cooking.

And because I couldn’t resist, I shared my fondness for brik, the iconic crispy treat I once saw Keith Floyd cook on TV at the El Jem amphitheatre – Nabil kindly offered to show me how to make it a special extra.

For my second choice, I selected Kafteji: a classic Tunisian street food where fried potatoes, tomatoes, peppers, pumpkin, and sometimes zucchini are chopped together, mixed with eggs, and seasoned with cumin, coriander, and a touch of harissa. Served with warm bread, Kafteji is both rustic and comforting – a staple of Tunisian kitchens and snack bars, enjoyed any time of day and loved for its bold, colourful flavours.

The shopping trip into the heart of the Medina was nothing short of epic. Stepping into a world alive with colour and scent, I found myself surrounded by piles of freshest herbs – dill, mint, coriander, parsley – each leaf and sprig bursting with promise and flavour. Much like my adventures through the hidden corners of Morocco, I purposefully wandered beyond the tourist trail with Nabil to where real life unfolded: bustling market stalls, vendors calling with pride, the air thick with the fragrance of earth and spice.

Shopping where locals shop, I revelled in the ritual of tasting, smelling, and with Nabil, carefully selecting ingredients, seeking only the most vibrant and perfect for the dishes ahead. There is an undeniable thrill to browsing food markets – each stall a feast for the senses, every display telling a story. Familiar greens mingled with new discoveries, the market’s energy and abundance filling me with delight. It was just brilliant, the kind of experience that cooks up lifelong memories alongside the day’s recipes.

If there is one ingredient that always seems more vibrant and irresistible when travelling, it’s the tomato. Abroad, their sun-ripened sweetness and fragrance surpass anything I’ve tasted at home – I simply cannot get enough. During my stay at the hotel, juicy, crimson tomatoes found their way onto my plate at least twice a day, an essential centrepiece in salads bursting with authentic flavour – so unlike the pale, bland offerings I’ve grown used to back in the U.K.

The market was overflowing with them: plump and glistening, heaped in glorious abundance, the scent hanging thick in the air. Each tomato promised the taste of sunshine and earth, a simple perfection that felt almost impossible to capture outside these travels.

We continued our journey through the winding alleys of the Medina, stopping at vibrant market stalls to gather the day’s essential ingredients. Each pause brought another burst of colour and aroma – bright herbs, fresh vegetables, spices so fragrant they lingered in the air. The rhythm of local life pulsed around us, every purchase infused with intention and excitement for the cooking to come.

After the market, we retraced our steps to the car, our bags now heavy with promise. Yet the adventure wasn’t done: on the way to Nabil’s home, we visited a delightful series of specialist shops, each one a treasure trove in its own right. There, we picked up freshly made harissa, fiery and aromatic, plump merguez sausages, and glistening olives. These final, carefully chosen ingredients would tie the meal together, their flavours echoing the spirit of Tunisia – generous, bold, and unforgettable.

After a short drive, we arrived at Nabil’s family home where I was introduced to his wife and professional chef Nisaf, my guide for the cooking lessons to follow – the home was a tranquil oasis enveloped in greenery and the gentle shade of leafy trees. The house exuded a cool serenity, with its inviting patio and comfortable chairs set out to savour the softness of the Tunisian breeze. The sheltered garden offered a quiet escape, promising a sense of peace and familial warmth.

Stepping inside, I was welcomed not as a guest, but as a long-awaited member of the household – greeted by genuine smiles and a hospitality that felt deeply rooted in Tunisian tradition. A table was thoughtfully being prepared with refreshments, an offering that was both generous and heart warming. In this private sanctuary, I felt a true sense of privilege, as if I were rediscovering distant family after many seasons apart.

Bread and deep green extra virgin olive oil graced the table – did you know Tunisia’s olive groves span nearly a third of the country and place it among the world’s top five producers. Renowned for organic, flavourful oils like Chemlali and Chetoui, Tunisia’s harvest is largely exported and garners global acclaim, its reputation now standing proudly beside Spain, Italy, and Turkey.

Alongside were figs and bssisa – a beloved Tunisian staple made from roasted grains and legumes, ground and blended with spices, then enriched with olive oil or milk into a nourishing paste or drink. Steeped in tradition and family ritual, bssisa embodies the essence of Tunisian hospitality, uniting generations through its wholesome flavours and generous spirit. Harissa was there too, the ever-present, fiery chilli paste crafted from sun-dried peppers, garlic, olive oil, and aromatic spices – a condiment that captures the vibrant soul of Tunisian cuisine. Completing the spread, coffee gently scented with rose petal essence offered fragrant, delicious comfort.

The spacious family kitchen was ready for an afternoon of discovery. Here, I was welcomed into the secrets of time-honoured Tunisian cooking, sharing those cherished moments that make one feel utterly at home, if only for a sweet, fleeting afternoon—the anticipation humming with the promise of unforgettable memories.

So, back to my menu, Ojja, Kafteji and Brik, a selection of dishes unknown to me (with the exception of Brik. Nisaf was going to show me how to create this traditional Tunisian dishes and I was excited to learn some new techniques.

Ojja

Ojja is a deeply traditional Tunisian dish with humble roots in home kitchens, reflecting the fusion of Berber, Arab, and Mediterranean culinary influences over centuries. Its signature mix of eggs, tomato, peppers, harissa, and spicy merguez sausage embodies the bold flavours of Tunisia, while adaptations vary regionally and by family. The dish is regarded as a cornerstone of authentic Tunisian comfort food, celebrated for its ability to adapt and unite diverse tastes and ingredients.

Kafteji

Kafteji, now a Tunisian staple found in street stalls and home kitchens, began as a creative way to use available vegetables – potatoes, peppers, tomatoes, pumpkin—chopped and fried, mixed with eggs, and spiced generously. Its preparation style, where all ingredients are diced and mixed, is reflected in its name, derived from the Arabic for “chopped”. While some elements may echo Mediterranean and even Turkish traditions, kafteji’s evolution and widespread popularity are distinctly Tunisian, symbolizing hospitality, creativity, and the communal pleasures of everyday meals.

Brik

Brik’s origins are a tapestry of influences: its ultra-thin pastry (warqa or malsouka) and fried fillings likely evolved from Turkish börek – introduced via the Ottoman Empire – while the classic runny egg filling may owe its presence to Andalusian Jews who arrived in Tunisia after the 15th-century expulsion from Spain. Over centuries, brik became a uniquely Tunisian delicacy, made with potato, egg, seafood, or meat, and featured at holidays, Ramadan, and festive gatherings. Its enduring appeal lies in Tunisia’s layering of culinary traditions, each bite echoing the country’s role as a crossroads of Mediterranean culture.

The artistry of Tunisian cooking reveals itself dish by dish, beginning with the bold flavors of ojja. The process starts by pricking merguez sausages with a fork and cooking them separately with some chopped dried chilli, allowing their spicy oils to seep out and deepen their flavour as they brown. Once done, the sausages are set aside, their aromatic fat reserved.

In the same pan, onions and garlic gently sauté in olive oil, joined by chopped green peppers that brighten and sweeten as they cook. Tomatoes and harissa follow, mingling with cumin and coriander until a rich, fiery sauce develops. The browned merguez rounds, glistening with their own juices, are folded back in, and finally eggs are cracked into the bubbling sauce, their whites barely set, yolks golden and just runny. Scooped up with fresh bread, ojja embodies the heart of a Tunisian gathering.

Moving across the kitchen, the creation of kafteji is a celebration of color and texture. Potatoes and squash are sliced thin and fried separately, each piece taking on a golden, crisped edge. Peppers and chilies are fried in turn, then all the vegetables come together in a medley on a broad platter. Fried eggs are then laid across the surface and everything is cut into enticing strips, mingling vegetable and egg in a fragrant jumble. This dish, which is always served for sharing – is wholesome, rustic, full of sunshine and very tasty.

Brik provides the theatrical finale. Each delicate sheet of pastry (malsouka, which we purchased freshly made at the Medina) is filled with a little seasoned tuna placed at its centre, some Tuna. chopped Parsley and a little chopped Onion along with the freshest egg available. The pastry is folded to envelop its filling, with quick, sure hands, and lowered carefully into shimmering hot oil. In just moments, the brik crisps and blisters to a golden finish, the egg inside barely set with a runny yolk. Served immediately, with a wedge of lemon ( and for me Harissa, I love the stuff), brik is crisp yet delicate, a Tunisian delight both sumptuous and fleeting – capturing the very soul of the country’s spirited home cooking.

We drank from traditional white and blue Tunisian terracotta mugs – slightly porous and beautifully handcrafted. The clay kept our drinks deliciously cool, even in the midday warmth, each sip a simple pleasure that echoed centuries of Tunisian craftsmanship and refreshment.

Nisaf was nothing short of magical – a chef imbued with talent and generosity, guiding each step with a graceful confidence that made every new technique feel within reach. With Nabil’s able hands and his effortless translation between languages, learning was transformed into pure delight; culinary secrets became stories, and the kitchen itself pulsed with laughter and the easy rhythm of shared discovery. As we finally sat down to savour the feast we’d created, each bite shimmered with the flavours of Tunisia, rich with memory and promise. I left the table not only filled with the most delicious food, but also with a new treasury of knowledge and inspiration – thirty genuine recipes tucked eagerly into my bag, ready to carry the vibrance of Tunisian cuisine into my own kitchen, time and time again.

After I arrived back to the U.K. I was invited to join a Sicilian Cookery Session at Richard Bertinets Cookery School in Bath which I will be writing about soon.

………………………………. Until Next Time…………………….. L8ers

From Golden Maakouda to Ocean’s Bounty, and Couscous Steeped in Time: Savouring the Soul of Essaouira – (Day 3)

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I’d arrived in Essaouira the afternoon before, the Atlantic breeze ushering me through the medina’s winding lanes. My carossa – the quiet, determined man with his battered two-wheeled cart struggled to find Riad Malaika, its entrance hidden deep within a shadowed alley where not even the afternoon sun could reach. After a few wrong turns, some good-natured directions from locals, and a laugh at our shared confusion, we finally found the heavy wooden door. The riad welcomed me with its cool, tranquil courtyard, a secret oasis in the heart of the city.

Later, as dusk settled over Essaouira, I found myself alone at Butterfly Space. The hum of conversation and the clatter of cutlery were a gentle backdrop to my solitary meal, a plate of something vibrant and local, each bite a quiet celebration of arrival. The flavours lingered, weaving themselves into my first memories of the city.

That night, the riad wrapped me in its calm, the world outside fading into silence behind ancient walls.

At first light, the stillness was broken by a wild chorus of seagulls wheeling above the rooftops, their cries echoing through the medina and tugging me from sleep. Essaouira was waking, and so was I, drawn from dreams by the restless energy of the Atlantic and the city’s salt air. It was Monday, I think, though Morocco has a way of making days blur together. A new day had begun, one filled with promise, the memory of a solitary feast, and the wild, joyful chorus of seagulls overhead.

Breakfast was a delight, a celebration of Moroccan hospitality, almost too generous for the modest table. Jewel-like dried fruits and nuts waited beneath a glass-topped container, inviting discovery with every lift of the lid.

There was fresh bread, still warm and fragrant, perfect for scooping up the star of the morning: Amlou, that magical blend of roasted almonds, golden argan oil, and honey, rich and nutty, its flavour lingering long after each bite.

A single slice of crispy French toast, likely cut from a baguette, added a subtle sweetness and crunch, a golden accent among the morning’s offerings.

A variant of traditional Harcha, the rustic semolina cake, brought a tender, savoury note, its edges just crisp enough to satisfy. A glass of fresh fruit juice, vibrant and cool, stood alongside a beautifully prepared fruit salad, each piece glistening as if kissed by the morning sun.

Black tea, deep and fragrant, was served simply in a cup, its warmth and aroma a gentle comfort, mingling with the scents of homemade jam and honey from tiny pots nearby. A one-egg omelette completed the spread, a quiet companion to the abundance around it, and a reminder that simplicity can be its own luxury.

It was a breakfast to savour slowly, each element a note in a harmonious Moroccan morning, welcoming, generous, and filled with the promise of the day ahead.

As I carried my case down to reception, a gentle summons awaited me, Amanda, my guide and chef, and our driver had just arrived at the city’s edge. The hotel’s own carossa expertly appeared, his two-wheeled cart gliding through the labyrinthine corridors of the medina with a grace born of years navigating these ancient stones. We emerged at the medina’s threshold, where our new driver, Adil, greeted us with a beaming smile; kind, gentle, and unfailingly polite, his calm presence a welcome anchor amid the lively swirl of Moroccan traffic, which always seems to dance somewhere between chaos and choreography.

With my bags stowed in the 4×4, Amanda and I slipped back into the medina’s embrace, eager to explore its secrets and gather fresh produce for the day’s adventures. The morning air was alive with possibility as we wandered between sunlit alleys and cool shadows, pausing to admire the vibrant displays of local shops.

Our first stop, the legendary Pâtisserie Driss, was shuttered for Eid al-Adha, the sweet scent of celebration lingering in the air even as the doors remained closed. Undeterred, we wandered on and soon discovered Pâtisserie Boujemaa, its windows brimming with confections that sparkled like jewels in the morning light.

Stepping inside felt like entering a world of Moroccan enchantment, orange blossom and honey perfuming the air, trays laden with cornes de gazelle, glossy chebakia, crumbly ghoriba, and crisp briouats. Each pastry was a testament to Morocco’s centuries-old tradition of hospitality and artistry. For just 150 dirhams, we left with a full kilogram of these sweet treasures, each bite a celebration in itself, some sweet treats for rest of the week.

We wound our way through the medina’s twisting corridors until we reached one of the main thoroughfares, where our first snack stop awaited: maakouda. We enjoyed them just as they were, fresh from the fryer, golden and crisp, with no need for accompaniments. Eaten plain, the gentle warmth of turmeric and cumin took centre stage, allowing the comforting flavours of these humble potato fritters to truly shine. There’s a special charm in the simplicity of Moroccan street food, and with each bite of maakouda, we tasted that perfect balance of spice and tradition.

Shopping in Morocco is a true adventure for the senses. Here, the focus is on flavour rather than flawless appearance; tomatoes, courgettes, and carrots may not look perfect, but their taste is unbeatable. We delved deep into the medina, venturing into bustling corners where few travellers stray, on a mission to gather ingredients for our culinary explorations. This was a foodie holiday, after all, and Amanda, an exceptionally talented chef, was eager to discover every hidden gem. In one shop, chickens clustered together in a large open box, a scene both fascinating and distinctly local. The vegetable stalls were overflowing with vibrant produce, and we selected earthy beetroots for a trout cure back at the villa, along with fresh courgettes and carrots for the couscous we’d prepare later. Wandering through these tucked-away markets was both fun and eye-opening, the abundance of vegetables, the lively atmosphere, and the remarkably low prices all added to the magic of our Moroccan shopping adventure.

We settled in for a good half hour over a glass of steaming mint tea at a tiny café nestled beside a lively market stall, where great tubs of glossy olives in every shade of green and purple caught our eye. The stall was a paradise for any food lover; mounds of spicy green and red harissa, generous portions of rich, aromatic khlii (Moroccan preserved lamb), and an ever-changing parade of locals stopping by for their daily essentials.

As we lingered over our sweet atay b’naanaa, the air alive with the mingled scents of herbs and spices, we soaked in the vibrant scene. For anyone curious, atay b’naanaa simply means “mint tea” in Moroccan Arabic – atay is tea, and naanaa is mint, so there’s no banana involved, just a fragrant blend of green tea, fresh spearmint, and sugar. Here, at the heart of the medina, surrounded by the raw ingredients of Moroccan cuisine, each sip of tea felt like a celebration, a leisurely pause and a perfect window into daily life before our next culinary adventure.

After the excitement of selecting fresh fish and prawns from the morning’s catch and savouring them perfectly grilled over charcoal, we spent a wonderful few hours exploring the medina’s winding alleys. The markets brimmed with vibrancy, tubs overflowing with glossy olives, heaps of fiery harissa, and generous servings of khlii, all set to the backdrop of everyday Moroccan bustle. Laden with ingredients and inspired by the sights and scents around us, we set off for our next destination: La Fromagerie, an artisan goat’s cheese maker, where we hoped to discover yet another delicious facet of Morocco’s culinary heritage.

Leaving the bustle of Essaouira behind, we set out on a scenic 13-mile journey along the N8, turning onto the R301 as the landscape unfurled before us. Hidden well back from the road, La Fromagerie emerged like a serene oasis—so peaceful that the distant hum of traffic vanished completely. The air was fragrant with blooms from lush gardens, and vibrant flowers framed the entrance, setting the tone for what felt like a secret retreat.

We were welcomed with a fascinating tour of the goat cheese production unit, where the day’s fresh milk was being transformed into creamy rounds of artisan cheese. The resident goats, content and curious, grazed nearby, while chickens scratched in the shade, supplying eggs for the kitchen. It was a beautiful glimpse into the rhythms of living off the land—a place where sustainability and tradition go hand in hand.

The meal at La Fromagerie was a true celebration of local flavours and craftsmanship. We began with a tasting of goat’s cheeses at varying stages of maturity, each one offering its own subtle character and creamy tang. Next came a delightful starter: a round of grilled cheese, its molten centre wrapped in a delicate bread crust and crowned with a tangle of sprouting pulses, simple yet utterly irresistible. Layers of silky aubergine followed, perfectly cooked and infused with just a whisper of tomato and chilli, each bite a harmonious balance of earthiness and warmth. To finish, we savoured ‘lamb mechoui‘, tender, succulent, and deeply flavourful, a dish that lingered long in the memory. Every course was a testament to the art of rustic Moroccan cooking, and together they made for a lunch that was nothing short of perfect.

For those tempted to linger, La Fromagerie also offers charming rooms for an overnight stay, inviting guests to fully immerse themselves in this tranquil corner of rural Morocco.

On our way to Amanda’s villa, we couldn’t resist a stop at Carrefour, a ritual I love when traveling. There’s something fascinating about wandering foreign supermarket aisles, comparing the range of products and prices to those back home. Carrefour’s shelves were stocked with a surprising array of international treats and local staples.

The alcohol section was particularly impressive, boasting a wide selection of beers, wines, and spirits, a reminder of Morocco’s cosmopolitan side. Imported goods, as expected, came at a premium; seeing familiar British biscuits and condiments with their price tags in dirhams was both amusing and eye-opening. The meat counter, however, was nearly bare, a quiet testament to Eid Al-Adha, when families gather and butchers take a holiday. Only a few spicy Merguez sausages remained, hinting at the usual bustle of the market. Visiting a Moroccan hypermarket like Carrefour is more than just shopping, it’s a cultural experience, revealing the rhythms of daily life and the interplay between tradition and modernity.

Our home base for days three to five was Amanda’s beautiful villa outside Essaouira, a whitewashed haven with an airy, open-plan design that struck the perfect balance between light and cool comfort. The spacious kitchen, complete with a generous cooking top and ample prep space, was a dream for any food lover. Outside, a welcoming dining area invited us to linger over meals in the fresh air, while the thoughtful architecture let sunlight pour in without letting the heat intrude. It was the ideal setting for my first Moroccan cooking lesson: couscous, a true labour of love.

Preparing traditional Moroccan couscous with organic, coarse, dark grains is a soulful ritual, steeped in centuries of culinary tradition. It all begins in a wide, shallow gsaa bowl, where the couscous is gently sprinkled with water, a pinch of salt, and a golden drizzle of olive oil. With practiced, gentle hands, the grains are softly rubbed and rolled, their earthy aroma rising as each one is lovingly coated and separated. After a patient rest, the couscous is heaped into the top of a couscoussier, where it steams above a bubbling pot of homemade broth, fragrant with onions, garlic, and a medley of aromatics, perhaps a pinch of saffron or Ras el Hanout. Once the steam has worked its magic, the couscous is tipped out, allowed to cool just enough, and then gently hand rubbed again, breaking up clumps and coaxing the grains to lightness.

This meditative cycle of steaming and gentle hand rubbing is repeated three times, each round drawing out the couscous’s tender, fluffy character without ever becoming sticky. No further water is added after the first step; it is the steam, the touch, and the patience that transform the grains. For the final steaming, we nestled quartered courgettes into the simmering broth, letting their subtle sweetness and fresh green flavor infuse the steam and mingle with the couscous above. When the grains were finally ready, we finished them with a generous knob of butter, folding it through so every grain glistened and carried just a hint of richness.

To serve, we spooned over the meltingly soft onions and vegetables from the broth, then crowned the couscous with golden pieces of fried monkfish, their delicate flavour providing a wonderful contrast to the subtle, fragrant grains. The result was a dish that felt deeply rooted in Moroccan tradition, yet uniquely our own, capturing the spirit of hospitality and the joy of sharing something truly special at the table.

Whilst the couscous was going through its patient, time-honoured ritual, we turned our attention to another culinary experiment I’d long wanted to try: beetroot-cured trout. Earlier that day in Essaouira, we’d picked up some earthy, jewel-toned beetroots, their deep colour promising both flavour and drama. With a quick blitz in the blender, we combined the beetroot with equal measures of salt and sugar, creating a vivid, fragrant cure. We nestled the trout fillets flesh-side down in this mixture, ensuring every surface was in contact with the cure, and left them to work their magic overnight. By the following day, after a gentle rinse to remove the excess salt, we’d have slices of beautifully cured trout, vibrant in colour and delicately seasoned. There’s a special satisfaction in weaving new ideas into a tapestry of tradition, and this little project felt like the perfect companion to our day of slow, soulful cooking.

At last, it was time to sit down and savour the fruits of our labour. Glancing at the timestamps on my photos, I realised we had started at 17:57 and finished at 22:20, a full 4 hours and 23 minutes devoted to creating what was, without a doubt, the tastiest couscous I have ever eaten. The subtle lessons learned along the way were priceless: no shortcuts, no quick-cook grains, just patience, gentle hands, and respect for tradition. The result was light, fluffy, and full of flavour, healthy, satisfying, and a fitting finale to another long day of Moroccan adventure. There’s a special kind of joy in sharing a meal that has been crafted with care, and this couscous was a true celebration of time well spent.

Shukran bzaaf ʿla had nhar zwin, Allah yʿtik sseha ya Chef Amanda!

…………………………….Until next time………………….. L8ers……………………………..