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When a cheesemonger visits London, Neal’s Yard Dairy is pretty much up there with the Tower of London and Buckingham Palace as places to visit

I could throw some facts and stats at you about why cheese is nutritious, but honestly, why bother. It tastes so darn delicious. There’s something slightly magical about how milk becomes cheese in so many different incarnations and flavours.

I’m not averse to sharing my opinion; I know, shocker. Many sites are sharing their 2025 food trend hot take. Most of it is fun, some of it’s genuinely interesting, and occasionally I want to step away from the group chat and make myself a snack.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: recipes are templates, not a strict set of instructions. This past week I was reminded of that as I set out to make a do-ahead vegetable side. Summer is technically here, and I wanted the easy nonchalance of a casual Sunday lunch on the terrace.

At this time of year, I think of everyone working in retail and hospitality. I was one of them for most of my life. The pressure to go the extra mile is real, especially when you are already stretched thin. This year feels different.

Our ideas of what is normal to eat begin at home. They stretch and shift as we venture further into the world, gathering influences from friends, cultures, travel, and the happenstance of what we’re offered.

Some days, the kitchen feels like the only place that makes sense. A space where you actually touch the world instead of scrolling past it. Cooking feels so much better than watching cooking.

Traditions don’t enter into the world fully formed. They start as a good idea at the time. You gather a few people, raise a glass to something worth celebrating and somewhere between the food, the laughter and the decision to do it again next month/year/season, a tradition quietly slips into existence.

I never used to cook a lot of seafood at home. I didn’t need to; if I wanted a delicious seafood meal, I’d just visit my parents. It took until I was in my forties to really start cooking seafood at home on a regular basis. Pan-frying the odd fillet of Atlantic salmon doesn’t count.

Here’s to apéro hour — not a meal, not an afterthought, but a celebration of the small things done well. A drink that feels earned. A snack that sparks conversation. A reminder that joy often lives in the in-between.

If I had to name one habit that makes the biggest difference in how I cook, it wouldn’t be knife skills, fancy equipment, or even the quality of the ingredients. It would be this: tasting as I go.

There’s a school of thought that treats recipes as sacred texts — immutable, untouchable, to be followed exactly lest your dinner collapse in shame. I am not enrolled at that school. I transferred long ago to the far more chaotic (and frankly more fun) institution of Recipes as Templates.