Latest news with #foodmemory
Daily Mail
19-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
Is this the worst celebrity diet you've ever seen?
My first food memory is my mum Beryl telling me the things on my plate were chips, when they were actually parsnips. She was trying to make me eat something healthy, but she wasn't fooling me. I knew they weren't chips and was having none of it. Trying to get me to eat better has been an ongoing battle since I was born. First my mother, and now my wife Gemma. Only yesterday she gave me a vegan sausage roll, and lied to me, saying it was made with meat. People try to trick me all the time to make me more healthy. My mum did all the cooking when I was growing up in Wraysbury, Berkshire – but was she any good? I have no idea. I'm a barbarian when it comes to food, and I eat terribly. I just have chips and sausages. I don't eat any greens at all. I once went to see Queen play in Tokyo, and afterwards they had a big party at a sushi restaurant. Everyone's sitting down and eating, save me. I don't like sushi. Freddy Mercury comes over and says, 'Darling, why are you not eating?' I say I'm perfectly all right, and just so happy to be here at this cool evening. Freddie then organised his security man to go out and pick up a McDonald's. So I ate McDonald's in a Tokyo sushi restaurant, ordered by Freddie Mercury. And that was the last thing I ever ate in Japan. My McDonald's order is always a plain Quarter Pounder, with nothing on it at all. No salt, no cheese, no nothing. That, and a medium or large fries. I don't know if this is because I'm autistic, but I'm able to eat the same thing every day for months and months. When I'm at home in Los Angeles, breakfast is two eggs and a hash brown. Or a bacon sandwich. Then dinner is a sausage sandwich, with one sausage. Then in the evening some English chocolate – a Fudge bar or Caramac. I don't really drink, so I never put alcohol on my tour riders. And as I get a bit nervous before gigs I don't really eat, so I don't ask for anything. The rider is less for me than for the band, so they can have what they want. I hate pretty much everything my wife eats. She's vegetarian, borderline vegan, and all her stuff smells horrendous, all garlicky and herby. We are so different from each other. I don't even know the names of most of the stuff she eats. All I know is that it smells terrible, and I often have to sit somewhere else so I can enjoy my own food. My comfort food is white toast with butter. Anything else on top ruins a perfectly nice piece of toast. I also like sandwiches – salmon, peanut butter, Marmite and, if I'm being really adventurous, ham. When you consider a ham sandwich exotic, you see the problem. I don't drink water because I genuinely believe I'm allergic to it. If I drink more than one glass, it makes my tummy feel horrible. My favourite drink used to be Coca-Cola, but now it's Coke Zero. I drink a lot of Coke Zero. I do miss a proper British pub lunch. Even though I don't drink, there's something about sitting on the grass outside a lovely pub. I just love that atmosphere. My last supper would be Gemma's roast dinner, with roast potatoes and her Yorkshire pudding. But I'd have a sausage instead of beef or lamb – two if I'm feeling special. We've found an LA company that does decent British sausages. It amazes me that I've got through life this far, still reasonably slim, without any ailments. I've done nothing to earn that with my diet. Nothing at all.
Daily Mail
12-07-2025
- General
- Daily Mail
Mark Watson: ‘I can't stand eggs. I don't like the taste or smell'
My first food memory was at nursery school in Bristol, aged about four. I remember having to eat leeks, and telling the teacher I didn't like them. She said 'tough' and I was outraged. I even went home and told my parents about this injustice. And these formative moments have a long-term effect on your taste. I still don't like leeks, and avoid them wherever possible. My mum did most of the cooking growing up. But we [Mark has twin sisters, Emma and Lucy, and a brother, Paul] would go to my grandmother's house every Sunday for a roast after church. It always struck me as a lot of effort, so much chopping and peeling and making sure all those components came together. When I started going round to other people's houses, I was amazed when they weren't having a Sunday roast. I thought it was compulsory. Secondary school food wasn't bad. There were two queues: one for burgers and chips and one for parent-friendly stuff. My dad would give me £1 every day and it was then a kind of moral reckoning whether I'd go for the chips or proper food. On Fridays there was always a dish called Kentish sausage, which was basically meatballs. I loved it and used to associate it with the freedom of the coming weekend. I imagined I'd have this a lot in adult life, but I never encountered it again. I can't stand eggs. I don't like the taste or smell. My mum would put eggs covertly in things like mashed potato. That made me all the more resistant. We used to have a chocolate bar on Sundays after the roast. And when we started getting pocket money, we'd go to Woolworths and get pick 'n' mix. With no Woolworths around now, I do worry that a generation of kids may be missing out. We never ate them in front of our mum, because she was worried about our teeth. Now we're all in middle age, we've done OK, teeth-wise. So she can relax. But even now, if I ate a Mars bar in front of her, she'd worry. At Cambridge, I prided myself on spending as little money as possible on food. Even by student standards, my diet wasn't great. I had a microwave in my room and would just do baked potatoes or pasta with stir-in sauce. My second-year roommate, Bennett, was an ambitious cook and would make curries and hotpots. His parents would record Jamie Oliver shows on VHS, send them to him and he would replicate the dishes. I scrounged off his culinary abilities and ate royally. Afterwards, when I was living on my own again, it was back to the jacket potatoes. My hangover cure is a fry-up. But as I've got older, the hangovers have become less extreme. Either I've got better at drinking strategically or the body's just given up. My partner [comedy producer Lianne Coop] is a good cook and plans two or three meals ahead, so our fridge is always well stocked. But there has to be a big pot of yogurt. Some people wake up in the middle of the night for a glass of water. I wake up craving yogurt. My comfort food is sausage and mash. My mum cooked it when I was under the weather. I would probably choose sausage and mash for my last supper. But not if I was on Death Row in America because I'm not sure if I'd trust them to do it well. Otherwise, I would mark the occasion with an enormous curry and all possible sides. That would be my final act of defiance. Mark Watson's latest novel, One Minute Away, will be published on 17 July by HarperCollins, £16.99. To preorder a copy for £14.44 until 27 July, go to or call 020 3176 2937. Free UK P&P on orders over £25. getty images, alamy, rex
Daily Mail
28-06-2025
- General
- Daily Mail
Olia Hercules: ‘My hangover cure is a bit of pickle brine'
My first food memory is of my mum, Olga, chopping the first cucumber and tomatoes of the season into an enamel bowl. I remember it so well – the intoxicating smell and sound they made as they hit that bowl. We cooked and ate with the seasons. We lived in the south of Ukraine with this beautiful, fertile black soil, so my family grew their own stuff. But there were no supermarkets, and it was really tough in the 1980s. I think one of the reasons why the Soviet Union finally crumbled was because of the huge food shortages. The queues for bread and meat were insane – people would sell you their places in them – but if you knew someone or grew your own food, it was fine. When I was growing up, my mum did the lion's share of the cooking, but my dad Petro was an amazing cook, too. My older brother Sasha and I didn't cook – we just ate. But I was a really picky eater and, in extreme situations, my dad would step in and make his special broth: water, whole onion, carrot, some vermicelli, potatoes, chopped boiled eggs and lots of dill. I'd eat whatever he gave me when I was having those meltdowns. I was at primary school when the Berlin Wall came down, and Ukraine became independent on the first day of my next school in 1991. I remember suddenly everyone was eating 'pizza', which wasn't really pizza at all, but rather Ukrainian dough formed into a small, thick round. It had marie rose sauce on top and some really bad frankfurter sausages, and it was the most delicious thing. We never really had a culture of sweets and snacks. But in the early 90s, little kiosks began to pop up along the side of the road, along with babusi (grandmas) selling chocolate bars. If my parents gave me some money, I'd buy a Lion bar, which I loved so much I would stretch it out, taking a whole hour to eat it. There are very few foods now that I don't like, but avocado is one of them. There was also the boiled milk we were forced to drink at school, with a skin on top – it would make me gag. My comfort food is mashed potato, the way my mum makes it – loads of butter and milk, and served with pickled cucumber. The sourness and the comfort of the potato really whisks me back home. I have a shedload of homemade fermented pickles in the fridge, much to my husband's dismay. Fermentation – which I teach classes in – is a big part of Ukrainian culture. We ferment everything, and so I always have lots of jars filled with anything from watermelon and tomatoes to aubergines and wild garlic flowers. My hangover cure is a bit of pickle brine. It really sorts you out. My dad wasn't a big drinker, but if he came back from a wedding or something like that, the next morning you'd see him take out this massive three-litre jar of fermented cucumbers and just drink the brine. It's the best. My favourite meal was probably the last summer in my parents' house, before the Russian invasion. We made hand-cut noodles, my mum cooked a goose and there were massive peaches and tomatoes from her garden, too. I'll never forget Wilfred, my youngest, eating a peach and being covered in its juice. It was sunny, wonderful and delicious, and a taste of a very different time. FSB [security service] agents have taken over our house now, and our town is occupied by Russians. I don't know if we'll ever be able to go back. My parents lost everything and had to flee. My mum is in Berlin but my father refused to live there on benefits. He is back in Ukraine and turning an old tractor into a minesweeper. My dad always gives me hope. My last supper would be my mother's varenyky [Ukrainian dumplings], made out of syr cheese, and swimming in butter and sour cream. That's my last dish on earth, for sure.
Daily Mail
21-06-2025
- General
- Daily Mail
'Sushi makes me want to reach for my gun': Julian Fellowes
My first real food memory was when I was 13, on a French exchange in the Dordogne. They had a proper cook, called Germaine, who was governed by the grandfather. Every morning he'd go into the kitchen and have this more or less knock-down fight with the cook. They would scream at each other, then arrive at the day's menu. I couldn't believe it. I remember writing to my mother, saying I had a sort of yellow sauce with the cold chicken. 'It's mayonnaise,' she explained. Well, it was nothing like any mayonnaise I'd ever had. I came back with negligible French, but a completely transformed palate. My mother, on the whole, saw cooking as something she was obliged to do rather than facing it with much enthusiasm. For her, anything tasted good if she hadn't cooked it. She wasn't a bad cook – English 1960s foods, lots of lamb stews and the odd soufflé. I was very fond of crêpes suzette. But I always think [my wife] Emma is quite lucky in having a husband who isn't particularly nostalgic for his mother's cooking. There was a rather profligate cousin of my father who had many mistresses and much interest in food. He took over my food education when I got back to England [from France ] and he used to take me to The Guinea in Mayfair. I don't think my parents were frightfully interested in food. I mean, my father did like it when something good turned up on the table. But, of course, he didn't expect to contribute to that at all. He hardly knew where the kitchen was. Boarding-school food at Ampleforth was horrible. I could never understand how the meat always had some piece of tube or gristle or the inner workings of the animal lying there, expecting you to swallow it. I found that rather trying. Cambridge was not a gastronomic delight, but you could go out provided you had the money. They were by no means marvellous restaurants, but they were better than school. The idea that in the evening a pleasant experience was coming your way really got rooted at Cambridge. We have a cook these days, although my wife does it occasionally. She's good at it – better than my mother – but only cooks when she's interested. That's the best way to do it. I used to have a huge appetite but I've lost it, and I'm really sorry that it's gone. I tend to pick a bit more carefully, eating mousses and sandwich fillers rather than some great joint of beef. I like roast chicken with bacon and sausages – I still enjoy that sort of English cooking, which is very straightforward. I do like Christmas food, especially the pudding. I always feel a bit sad when people say, 'Oh, we're having cod this year.' No, I don't want cod, I want Christmas turkey. I loathe sushi. Raw fish makes me want to reach for my gun. My comfort food is simple English stuff. Or a Marks & Spencer smoked-salmon and cream-cheese dip with lettuce. I still enjoy the taste of good food, and it still gives me a lot of pleasure. As you get older, there's a gradual removal of things that give you pleasure, until finally there's virtually nothing that gives you any pleasure at all. I feel that food is hanging in there. Food is really one of the last to go. I always have Champagne in my fridge because I think sometimes you want to cheer people up, and sometimes you want to cheer yourself up. I have butter because I love butter. And I'll always have some eggs. I like a boiled egg. If a benevolent god gave me my appetite back, my last supper would be roast chicken with cauliflower in white sauce and all the rest of the bits. For pudding, crêpes suzette. I feel I owe something to crêpes suzette over the years. The third season of Julian's drama The Gilded Age is on Sky and Now from tomorrow
Daily Mail
10-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
Comedian LOU SANDERS: ‘I had to choose my career or drinking – I chose my career'
My first food memory is my dad telling us to eat everything on our plate. I think he thought that was good parenting. But one day, my brother didn't really like what he was eating and was sick everywhere. He probably willed it on a bit to say, 'Now look what you've done!' My mother was a good cook. And my stepdad really did try [Sanders' parents divorced when she was two]. He had about four dishes on rotation. But I went vegetarian aged 13 and they thought I was doing it for attention, so they were like, 'You can make your own dinner, then.' Growing up in Broadstairs, Kent, my friend Jules and I used to run home from school to make pasta 'al dente'. Because we didn't have time to cook the pasta properly. We'd just have it with tomato and cheese. Then we'd eat Instant Whip for pudding. It was so unhealthy. Our biscuits were rationed at home. It was unbelievable, like there was a war going on. Two Bourbons a day! As a teen, when your hormones are going everywhere, you feel you need chocolate. Food is our first addiction, because it's what you can get your hands on. I used to love Secret bars. They had thin strands of chocolate and a mousse inside – I like a few things going on at the same time with food, a bit of a party. Oh my god, they were good. I can't believe they don't do them any more. It's a crime. I'm vegan and would hate to eat meat now. Someone gave me the wrong burger the other day, and I was sure it was made of meat. But the guy told me it was definitely plant-based. It was meat, and I was sick on the spot. I don't want death inside me. I don't mind those fake-meat products, as long as they don't taste too much like meat. Although some of them are ultra-processed, with over 30 ingredients. Which can't be good at all. I cannot believe we live in a world where people can just add raw onion to stuff without asking. It's insane. I mean, really, why would you put this stuff on food that's like a stink bomb, and lingers around for three days and smells of BO? On tour I get so bored of having the same breakfast at different hotels. Hash browns, rubbish vegan sausage, beans, tomato and mushroom. I get fed up with service stations, too. I went to Australia a few years ago, and their service stations are incredible, with lots of salad and fresh juice. Ours are a rip-off and just serve a load of old muck. My comfort food would be vegan spaghetti bolognese. But fish still turns my head. I do miss mussels and clams. I used to miss prawns, too, although ripping off the head does seem a bit barbaric. I always have oat milk in the fridge, and Lurpak does a good vegan spread. I'll have non-alcoholic wine in there too. I sound like a right laugh, don't I? I was too obstreperous when I drank and I had to choose my career or drinking. I chose my career. But when I did drink, and was veggie, eggy bread covered in salt was my hangover dish. I'm an intuitive cook – I don't like recipes and prefer to make it up. The last thing I cooked was a sort-of rice noodle stir fry. My last meal would be tapas to start then, because I could eat as much as I want, I'd have a vegan spaghetti bolognese and a vegan carbonara. Then a vegan sticky-toffee pud with ice cream.
