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The Guardian
14-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Tangy kimchi, bad ice-cream and good eggs: my tests for the food filter have changed how I shop
My favourite scene in the film Ratatouille is when Remy the rat tastes strawberries and cheese. Closing his eyes, he takes a bite … and it's fireworks. Like Remy, I'm a food lover: I'm a chef and recipe developer, writer and campaigner for a better food system, and have worked on farms and in kitchens, from River Cottage to Noma, for 25 years. The Guardian's journalism is independent. We will earn a commission if you buy something through an affiliate link. Learn more. Recently, I've been testing different supermarket staples for the food filter. Tasting 10 of each, I've rated everything from kimchi (as an avid fermenter, my favourite so far) to mayonnaise – 70 products in all. Vanilla ice-cream (coming up next week) was my least favourite: at least 50% of it was ultra-processed rubbish not even worthy of the name. It gave me stomach ache. I taste the products throughout the week to tune in to their flavours in real life. Then, I taste each one on its own, side by side. That's when the subtle differences appear. I usually taste in price order, from low to high, using a spittoon and cleansing my palate with water or a slice of apple. I take notes, score them on a spreadsheet, and finish with a speed-tasting to confirm my findings. After testing, most of the food goes into the freezer or is given as a gift to friends and family. I score each product out of five across several categories: flavour, texture and functionality – for example, does the spread spread? I then assess provenance, sustainability and processing – favouring transparency and minimally processed foods. I also rate value, weighing quality against cost. Finally, I give a bonus point for standout features, such as palm-oil-free spreads or high-protein tofu (coming up in a few weeks). Texture is especially important – ice-cream, for example, should be smooth, creamy and refreshing, not pumped full of stabilisers to mimic the feel of real cream. Sausages were a lot of fun – I remember Ray Smith, the butcher at River Cottage, talking about the importance of a natural hog casing, which gives that perfect snap, pop and caramelisation in the pan with butter. I cooked all the sausages at once, spaced evenly to ensure consistent cooking and no flavour cross-contamination. I love drilling into the details, researching why a food tastes the way it does and what makes it truly delicious. So far, the hardest test has been eggs. The differences in flavour were subtle and hard to judge due to the varying freshness. My research led me down a rabbit hole of animal welfare standards and sourcing transparency, with some brands refreshingly open, others frustratingly vague. Comparing foods side by side shows how wildly different they can be. Even something as simple as tofu varies in origin, technique, texture and subtle flavour, with some more aromatic, sweet, salty or rich in umami. Flavour is subjective, of course: some may prefer a thin-cut chip to a chunky skin-on chip, for example, so I don't want to mark down a product based on my tastes alone. Instead, I take a diplomatic and mindful approach, describing differences without damning them. I doubted my tasting abilities at one point, but then I realised I have a particularly sensitive sense of smell – I often pick up scents other people can't. It's a blessing and a curse: roses and fresh herbs one moment, rancid oil and dog litter the next. Writing the food filter has changed how I shop. I now know exactly which tofu I like best. And I get to pass this knowledge on, helping people eat better food and discover what's affordable and delicious. The best men's suits under £400: 14 favourites for every occasion (and how to style them) The best period pants, tried and tested for comfort, style and absorbency Panda Hybrid Bamboo mattress review: a stylish, supportive hybrid that keeps cool on balmy nights The best camping stoves for cooking like a pro in the wild, tested I'm a big fan of an aperitivo hour, but tend to stick to either Aperol or Campari for my spritz. But, no longer: food and drink writer Joanne Gould's guide to the best spritzes for summer is full of seasonal aperitivo inspiration, from an English garden spritz to one made with Desi Daru mango vodka. There's even an alcohol-free option for sober spritzing. Salute! Monica HorridgeDeputy editor, the Filter If the third exhausting heatwave of the summer is keeping you awake at night, it may be time to invest in a good fan. Experienced tech journalist and engineering graduate Caramel Quin put 14 of the best fans to the test, measuring many factors from wind speed to energy efficiency, to find the most effective and sustainable models. Be warned, though: stock levels are running low. Going on holiday soon? We want to know all your best tips: what saves your clothes from getting crumpled and bottles from leaking? What makes long journeys more bearable (particularly when you're travelling with kids)? How do you stay sand-free on the beach? Share your top buys, hacks and tricks by replying to this newsletter or emailing us at thefilter@
The Guardian
05-07-2025
- General
- The Guardian
‘True to the traditional British banger': the best supermarket sausages, tasted and rated
Sausages are more than the sum of their parts – a blend of tradition, technique, ethics and flavour. I've always preferred proper butcher's sausages, featuring hog casings filled with well-seasoned pork shoulder, then linked and set (I used to love making them with butcher Ray Smith on River Cottage's regular Pig in a Day courses). Farmer's markets and butchers are the best places to find them, but supermarkets now have a wide range, too. The Guardian's journalism is independent. We will earn a commission if you buy something through an affiliate link. Learn more. Texture is key: a good sausage should have bite and a bit of snap, with a juicy, meaty interior, rather than pasty from too much rusk (a crumb typically made with flour, salt and bicarbonate of soda) in the filling. Then there's flavour: a decent sausage should be rich in umami, well-seasoned but not overpowering, so you can actually taste the meat, and not be too sweet or packed with preservatives. Sourcing matters, too, both from the perspective of taste and personal and planetary health. The RSPCA has several welfare concerns about pork production in the UK, but better options do exist, and not always at a premium. Supermarkets do respond to customer feedback, so call or email if your local one doesn't stock good-value, high-welfare meat. Riverford, Pipers Farm and my local farmers' market are my go-to suppliers, but I also buy from supermarkets when I need to. If free-range or organic sausages are too expensive for your budget or not available to you locally, look for ones labelled RSPCA Assured or outdoor-bred or -reared, and check the excellent pork labelling guide at Farms Not Factories. Let's not forget the casings, either, because they're also important. Natural pork casings brown and crisp up beautifully, which helps give the banger that all-important snap; alginate casings (derived from seaweed) are ultra-processed but use renewable resources, and also offer a decent pop. Collagen casings, however, which are made from beef hide or bone, can be rubbery and don't caramelise as well. The ingredient lists varied widely across brands, but all the sausages I tested contained sulphites (used to preserve colour and extend shelf life, though they can cause adverse reactions in people who are sensitive to them); some were also full of ultra-processed additives such as stabilisers, emulsifiers and preservatives. If you're curious or concerned about what's in your sausage, the Yuka app is a useful tool – it scans product barcodes and gives easy-to-understand scores based on ingredients, additives, saturated fat, salt and sugar levels. As for the cooking, the best approach, in my book, is low and slow with a little oil and, essentially, some butter as well, because that helps them caramelise and go sticky. A high heat will split them, leaking precious fat and leaving them dry, which is a travesty. This was a fascinating tasting, and proof that you can still get a decent sausage at a fair price – and feel good about eating it, too. £4.75 for 400g at Waitrose (£1.19/100g)★★★★☆ Made with 98% pork, these had the highest meat content of the whole test group. They had a juicy, coarse texture and well-balanced flavour, seasoned with mace, sage and onion. The aroma is fresh and inviting, and the flavour holds its own without being overpowering. The vegetable-based casings mean they don't brown as readily, but that can be rectified by adding a little butter to the pan. Free-range outdoor-raised pork and strong animal welfare credentials, too, alongside a fully recyclable tray and sleeve – only the film tray cover is not. While not the most striking in appearance, they're a classic, high-welfare banger with strong provenance. £3 for 400g at Sainsbury's (75p/100g)★★★☆☆ A high-quality banger for the price. A distinct, herby aroma with a hint of nutmeg, while the coarse texture is true to the traditional British banger. Made with 93% pork and using alginate casings, they didn't colour well, but kept their shape. Contains sodium metabisulphite and vitamin C, but otherwise free from ultra-processed additives. Outdoor-bred and RSPCA Assured, this is a decent supermarket option. £6.95 for 400g at Farmison & Co (£1.74/100g)£6.95 for 400g at Ocado (£1.74/100g)★★★★☆ A well-crafted sausage made with native-breed pork and a mix of fine and coarse textures that delivers on both flavour and provenance. It has a classic linked shape and caramelises nicely, although it did lose some shape during cooking, which means it may have been overfilled. The aroma is nostalgic and inviting, with balanced seasoning and super umami. Although made with only 78% meat (79% if bought directly from Farmison), these have wonderful flavour and texture. Farmison stands out for its commitment to traditional methods and transparent sourcing, with full details on breed and origin clearly laid out on its website. Free-range pork, recyclable packaging apart from the film, and a focus on heritage make this sausage feel worth the premium. A strong contender with a clear mission to support British smallholdings and culinary heritage. £3 for 400g at Ocado (75p/100g)£3.50 for 400g at Tesco (88p/100g)★★★☆☆ These sausages brown nicely with a good caramelised colour and a classic butcher's shape. The coarse texture gives them a satisfying bite, while the aroma is pleasantly mild, with hints of nutmeg and sage. Well balanced with good seasoning. They're made with 90% pork and natural pork casings, but contain sodium sulphites and stabiliser triphosphates. While there's no transparent animal welfare standard, the packaging is mostly recyclable. The meat is British but likely to be intensively reared. Overall, a solid all-rounder with decent credentials and fair value for money. £4 for 400g at Sainsbury's (£1/100g)£4.25 for 400g at Waitrose (£1.06/100g)★★★☆☆ Brown beautifully with great caramelisation and a classic banger shape. The texture is juicy, combining both fine and coarse meat for a satisfying mouthfeel. The aroma is sweet with hints of white pepper and mace. Well seasoned, with a balanced depth of flavour. Made with 84% pork and encased in natural pork casings, but they're highly processed and contain sodium metabisulphite, emulsifiers (mono- and di-glycerides) and stabiliser diphosphates. Outdoor-bred (born outdoors, fattened in sheds) and RSPCA Assured, and packed in a recyclable card sleeve and plastic tray, this is a traditional British banger of OK provenance and quality. Sign up to The Filter Get the best shopping advice from the Filter team straight to your inbox. The Guardian's journalism is independent. We will earn a commission if you buy something through an affiliate link. after newsletter promotion £4.00 for 400g at Ocado (£1/100g)★★★☆☆ Nicely shaped, and browned beautifully in the pan. Very coarse and traditional, with a savoury, highly seasoned flavour led by herbs, spices, onion, and a touch of lemon. Made with 90% pork in natural pork casings, these are a classic, less-processed banger. Recyclable tray and sleeve. Outdoor-bred (born outdoors, fattened in sheds) and RSPCA Assured, giving them a more responsible edge, and provenance is reasonable. Not cheap, but a solid supermarket option with good flavour and the RSPCA's stamp of approval. (For just 50p more, you can get certified free-range sausages from the M&S Collection range, which is a great investment in quality.) £7.50 for 400g at Ocado (£1.88/100g)£7.50 for 400g at Daylesford (£1.88/100g)★★★☆☆ A premium sausage with high welfare credentials and good flavour. These have a classic shape and colour, but did lose some structure when cooked, probably due to the natural casings or air pockets in the filling. The fine texture and light, peppery seasoning give a clean, subtle taste. Certified organic and made with outdoor-reared native breed pork sourced from Gloucestershire, these are packed in a recyclable tray and sleeve. Contain sulphites and fortified wheat flour (gluten), but are otherwise minimally processed. A strong sustainability story and provenance make this a standout choice for ethical shoppers, albeit at a price. £3 for 400g at Tesco (75p/100g)★★☆☆☆ These sausages have a coarse texture and a fresh aroma with a strong hint of sage. They're on the saltier end and quite plain in taste, with a touch of white pepper. Made from 90% pork shoulder and belly, encased in vegetable casings, they didn't colour too well. They're more processed than some brands and contain sodium metabisulphite, calcium lactate and diphosphate stabilisers. The packaging is recyclable, except for the film. Overall, a basic supermarket sausage with modest provenance and processing credentials. £3.25 for 400g at Sainsbury's (81p/100g)£3.25 for 400g at Ocado (81p/100g)★★☆☆☆ With a medium coarse texture, these are quite plain in taste. They're less processed than some, and made with 97% pork shoulder, but with beef collagen casings. Lacks transparent animal welfare standards, though most of the packaging is recyclable and the brand discloses a carbon footprint of 2.4kg CO₂, which does add some kudos. Better than some budget options, but a rather middling product with few redeeming qualities beyond their pork content. £2.18 for 410g at Asda (53p/100g)£2.30 for 410g at Tesco (56p/100g)★☆☆☆☆ Less sausage and more processed meat-like substance wrapped in a reconstituted casing. These shrank and wrinkled in the pan, and have a pasty, floury texture typical of an emulsified product with very low meat content. The aroma is faint and sterile, while the taste is sweet and lacks depth. Made with just 42% pork and encased in beef collagen casings, they also contain soya protein, stabilisers such as guar gum, diphosphates and sulphites, firmly placing them in the ultra-processed category. The packaging aims for full recyclability by 2025, but the provenance is unclear, with no traceability or UK meat assurance. Contains gluten. The cheapest option, but hard even to call this a 'sausage'.
Sydney Morning Herald
18-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
‘I am genuinely on my own': The TV chef living the wild life in Tasmania
Chef Analiese Gregory vowed to tone down the 'adventuring' for the second season of SBS Food's female-centric answer to the River Cottage franchise, A Girl's Guide to Hunting, Fishing and Cooking. But there she is in the first episode, preparing to scuba dive for crayfish off the south-eastern coast of Tasmania, where the Michelin-star trained chef lives since trading the London-Paris-Sydney high life for a simpler existence on the land. 'I'm always putting myself in moderately dangerous situations, maybe because it makes you feel alive,' says the Kiwi chef, who is on during a break in preparing the Winter Feast for MONA gallery's Dark Mofo festival. The Huon Valley farmhouse we watched her restore in the first season is still a work in progress, as is the kitchen garden, from which she plucks lovage for the crayfish omelette she plans to cook on the beach. Sheep have joined the yard, as has a dog named Kana (a Maori word for 'sea urchin'). An Italian truffle-hunting breed called Lagotto Romagnolo, Kana has so far managed to forage a mushroom. There is another addition to the farm that upsets the image of solo female independence – Gregory's partner, Hobart chef and restaurateur Kobi Ruzicka. 'He lives in Hobart, so it's a very modern relationship,' says Gregory. 'But I am genuinely on my own in the country with my dog most of the time, just trying to muddle through.' Gregory was just 16 when she left the family dairy farm on New Zealand's North Island to train in London. 'I've always lived that way. I'm like, 'I'm going to move to France!', and I just do it.' But after regular restorative escapes to Tasmania during her years with chef Peter Gilmore (who appears in season two) at Sydney's Quay Restaurant, the pull of the quieter island state and its abundance of produce became too strong. 'Being part of big-city life for many years, and having high-pressure jobs, I think I needed to do that to value [farm life], and to want to come full circle.' A post-pandemic diagnosis helped Gregory make sense of her exceptional ability to focus under stress. In the series, she rarely appears ruffled, even when experiencing a panic attack during the crayfishing dive. 'From my 20 years in a commercial kitchen, you learn to internalise stress,' she says. 'And I've been diagnosed with autism, so maybe I do have a bit of that blank face. But it doesn't mean there aren't things going on below the surface … I went through a period of grieving for life being harder than maybe it needed to be, and then acceptance, and then learning to understand myself better … I think that in ways [autism] makes things harder for me, and in other ways it probably makes things easier. I do get hyper-focused and will stay up all night building bee frames to go in the beehive and things like that.'
The Age
18-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Age
‘I am genuinely on my own': The TV chef living the wild life in Tasmania
Chef Analiese Gregory vowed to tone down the 'adventuring' for the second season of SBS Food's female-centric answer to the River Cottage franchise, A Girl's Guide to Hunting, Fishing and Cooking. But there she is in the first episode, preparing to scuba dive for crayfish off the south-eastern coast of Tasmania, where the Michelin-star trained chef lives since trading the London-Paris-Sydney high life for a simpler existence on the land. 'I'm always putting myself in moderately dangerous situations, maybe because it makes you feel alive,' says the Kiwi chef, who is on during a break in preparing the Winter Feast for MONA gallery's Dark Mofo festival. The Huon Valley farmhouse we watched her restore in the first season is still a work in progress, as is the kitchen garden, from which she plucks lovage for the crayfish omelette she plans to cook on the beach. Sheep have joined the yard, as has a dog named Kana (a Maori word for 'sea urchin'). An Italian truffle-hunting breed called Lagotto Romagnolo, Kana has so far managed to forage a mushroom. There is another addition to the farm that upsets the image of solo female independence – Gregory's partner, Hobart chef and restaurateur Kobi Ruzicka. 'He lives in Hobart, so it's a very modern relationship,' says Gregory. 'But I am genuinely on my own in the country with my dog most of the time, just trying to muddle through.' Gregory was just 16 when she left the family dairy farm on New Zealand's North Island to train in London. 'I've always lived that way. I'm like, 'I'm going to move to France!', and I just do it.' But after regular restorative escapes to Tasmania during her years with chef Peter Gilmore (who appears in season two) at Sydney's Quay Restaurant, the pull of the quieter island state and its abundance of produce became too strong. 'Being part of big-city life for many years, and having high-pressure jobs, I think I needed to do that to value [farm life], and to want to come full circle.' A post-pandemic diagnosis helped Gregory make sense of her exceptional ability to focus under stress. In the series, she rarely appears ruffled, even when experiencing a panic attack during the crayfishing dive. 'From my 20 years in a commercial kitchen, you learn to internalise stress,' she says. 'And I've been diagnosed with autism, so maybe I do have a bit of that blank face. But it doesn't mean there aren't things going on below the surface … I went through a period of grieving for life being harder than maybe it needed to be, and then acceptance, and then learning to understand myself better … I think that in ways [autism] makes things harder for me, and in other ways it probably makes things easier. I do get hyper-focused and will stay up all night building bee frames to go in the beehive and things like that.'
Time Out
04-06-2025
- Health
- Time Out
Town isn't about the chaos of the city, but super seasonality, regenerative farming, and letting the produce speak for itself
It's wild that nobody before has ever thought to name a restaurant 'Town'. Think of the endless possibilities of 'Town'! It's the place everybody wants to go; the place where so many thrilling things happen; the place where, if you can make it there, you are highly likely to make it anywhere. This new, shimmering incarnation of 'Town' can be found on the fringes of Covent Garden, far enough away from the frantic piazza so as not to be heaving with tourists and/or street performers. It's a truly grand room, a Ballardian boudoir in shiny, wipe-clean burgundy, with an open kitchen framed by a massive, oval-shaped and lime green opening. The retro-futurism thing is further dished up via the soundtrack; Dorothy Ashby's 'Afro-Harping' slinks groovily in the background, and there're a vinyl copy of Lou Donaldson's 1968 sax odyssey 'Alligator Boogaloo' perched on a record player (which nevertheless remains switched off for the duration of our visit). Such a space-age aesthetic is perhaps at odds with Town's menu, which has more in common with the rustic likes of surrealist late-1990s cookery show River Cottage than it does Barbarella. You see, Town isn't about the chaos of the city, but super seasonality, regenerative farming, and letting the produce speak for itself. It is, essentially, a plotline from The Archers. In practice, this means that the food is deeply considered, but pretty low intervention - it's less about cooking, and more about arranging lovely things on a plate. That's not to say Town avoids all contemporary trends. The snack of 2025, the gilda, comes with a nubbin of soused mackerel and a folded shiso leaf, while the snack of 2024, fried sage leaves, comes heavy on the batter and drizzled in honey. The snack of 2023 - a pastel-shaded pickle plate - is accessorised with a simple dollop of salted yogurt. My starter of wine-cured beef is just as fuss-free, with a scattering of candied walnuts and a few dots of creamy cheese, while Welsh lobster is no doubt cooked incredibly, but is relatively pared-back when it comes to presentation, layered with creamy sheets of lardo and dolloped with a XO sauce so brawny that it practically throbs. A side salad of tomato, nespoles (a kind of a fancy apricot) and elderflower is perhaps where Town's vision is clearest - a carnival of colour, furiously fresh flavour and powerful sense of pride at nature's perfect bounty. The vibe Brutalism, but make it glam - a swanky space with pricey dishes. The food Ingredient-led fare with a focus on British-grown produce and sustainability practices. The drink Lots of wine and a deft cocktail menu as devised by award-winning bar Satan's Whiskers. Our 'Dill Boy' martini was small but strong and handsome aka the Tom Hardy of drinks.
