Welcome back to Insta Stories, a column examining the London restaurant scene through the often-problematic medium of Instagram. This week’s filter is flawless.
News of the week
And just like that, the slow crawl out of winter’s doldrums begins. The appearance of Yorkshire forced rhubarb on menus and on so, so many Instagram feeds may not quite be a sign that summer is around the corner just yet, but its popularity indicates just how starved our palates / palettes can become after months of staring at beige carbs and worthy brassicas.
Every year, Veganuary creates an interesting problem for itself. The (tired, absurd) argument that vegan food is bland and terrible is, of course, trotted out by the anti-vegan brigade from around January 3rd; year-round vegans roll their eyes and proceed with business as usual. But then big chains get involved, jumping on the bandwagon created by Veganuary’s fixed duration and introducing spurious vegan options to punters dipping their toes into the water for a month, only for them to conclude, based on the uninspiring options offered by most places, that vegan food is bland and terrible. For reference, here’s how to do it right.
In these uncertain, mostly genuinely distressing times, it can be hard to cast about and find literally anything about our nation to instil pride. But once in a while, something comes along to remind us there is something about Britain worth saving. Cue the Elgar, let the Welsh valley choirs sing and strike up the brass bands. Our highly specific, otherwise entirely useless gift for formally constructed, devastatingly petty insults is alive and well.
Many miles of column inches have already been dedicated to identifying the “trends” that will “define” how we eat in 2020 (inevitably, this is definitely the year that everyone will finally get into insect protein). But based on their gradual infiltration not just of Modern British places but restaurants serving other cuisines as well, is this the year the confit potato finally goes mainstream?
I love this bean pot and its curvy body. As a teenager, I was often teased by my friends for my attraction to cooking vessels on the thicker side, ones who were shorter and curvier, pots that the average (basic) bro might refer to as “heavy” or even “dense.” Then, as I became a man and started to educate myself on issues such as effective heat dispersal and how the media marginalizes pots by portraying a very narrow and very specific standard of conduction (thin, metal, lean) I realized how many men have bought into that lie. For me, there is nothing more efficient than this pot right here: thick sides, big bottom, cute little side roll, etc. Its shape and size won’t be the one featured on the cover of Bon Appétit but it’s the one featured in my life and in my heart. There’s nothing better to me than a pot that is both curvy and solid; this gorgeous vessel I acquired fills out every inch of the hob and is still the most beautiful one in the room. Guys, rethink what society has told you that you should desire. A real piece of cookware is not a Le Creuset or a hard anodized nonstick copper pan or part of a 3-ply stainless steel induction set. It’s real. It has beautiful stretch marks on its sides and cute little dimples on its bottom. Pots, don’t ever fool yourself by thinking you have to fit a certain mold to be loved and appreciated. There is a guy out there who is going to celebrate you for exactly who you are, someone who will love you like I love my pot belly bean pot.
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