‘These boxes are like an emergency delivery of happiness’
Left completely to my own culinary devices during Lockdown 1.0, I forlornly accepted that, despite my collection of recipe books that threatens one day to topple and half-kill me, my kitchen routine revolves around the same four or so recipes, two of them featuring pasta bow-ties in some sort of slippery sauce. I may once have been a ferocious screen-grabber of recipes, saved to make “when there’s more time”, but what March-August 2020 taught me was that no amount of languorous house arrest would see me acquiring, scraping and braising my own artichokes, or fashioning a beurre noisette at 6pm, after I’d spent the day waving a Wi-Fi router in the air and mooing like a cow.
