Salty plums are a Chinese snack that you can find in Asian food shops. Apparently they’ve also become popular in Mexico. They are insanely salty and sweet: eating one makes my mouth go squee and my eyes curl up in horror. Which is somehow pleasant. In moderation. They’re not my favourite food, but the name also sounds a little rude and slightly intriguing. I’ve always wanted to be seen as a little rude and slightly intriguing, so there you have it.
As for food, I just enjoy cooking. In some ways I’m a food snob: I’ll never buy a ready-meal, I never use pre-prepared cooking sauces, I never eat in Pizza Hut or McDonalds. I love black pudding, jerusalem artichokes, real ale and flat-leaf parsley. But I’m not a “real foodie”; I don’t watch TV cookery programmes, I only have a half-dozen cookbooks that I ever use, and I don’t read food blogs. That’s one habit I ought to change or I shall feel hypocritical whenever I wish more people would read mine!
And I love eating out. Lots of Michelin stars, lots of foams and emulsions, cunning patisserie and tender water-bath’d meat. Since returning from our year of travelling I’ve been thinking more about the intersection of price and quality; finding a place to enjoy really good food for a tenner is just as precious as finding an exquisite tasting menu for a cool hundred.
So I’m writing as someone who enjoys finding, preparing and eating food but who has never gone that step further of being obsessed by it. I reckon there’s plenty like me.
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