Pumpkin soup, so delicious in theory – sweet, velvety, lightly autumnal – is so often disappointing in reality. Thin in flavour and consistency, thanks to squash’s high water content, it’s likely to make even the most conscientious cook regret not chucking those Halloween offcuts on the compost heap when they had the chance. This, I hope it goes without saying, is not that sort of pumpkin soup.
Food producers are adding their voices to the chorus of warnings about the vulnerability of British supply chains
“There are so many decent, capable, productive, efficient arable farmers out there, asking how they are supposed to finance the crop they are meant to be putting in the ground,” Jamie Burrows says.
Sitting in his tractor at his arable farm in Norfolk, Burrows is listing the multiple challenges facing him and other food producers.
The cooking is sometimes bang on, sometimes a little slapdash, but then piques your interest all over again
Indian Cafe Racer on Bristol Street, Birmingham, spent its fledgling years tucked behind a curtain at the back of the Wellington pub just a few doors up from its fancy new home. There was a Royal Enfield motorcycle, chequerboard floors and a psychedelic Indian soundtrack, but this small, homespun spot from Azad Kayes quickly became culty, then oversubscribed, then in need of a bigger home. It’s a good news tale for the Brum food scene.
For those who remember it, south Birmingham’s Balti triangle once ran to 30 bustling restaurants along Ladypool Road and Stratford Road. Only two now remain. Something has gone amiss with supply and demand. Indian Cafe Racer, meanwhile, has enough fans for a new, 65-cover, grown-up restaurant, serving an ever-changing menu that, when we visited, featured shaktiman andsalad (named after an Indian comic-book superhero), gol gappa (crisp shells filled with chickpeas and potato), chicken pepper fry and grilled aubergine and portobello mushrooms, known as farzi steak.
I’ve broken my strict, like-for-like approach this week in the interests of just finding a really good sliced wholemeal sandwich loaf. Alas, most of these are made to the standard Chorleywood process, with each one a cardboard replica of the other and with only nuanced differences. However, I did find two with exceptional flavour and one with a notably good, firm texture that’s ideal for spreading stuff on; to my surprise, several have an impressive lack of additives, too, and they all score well on value.
The Chorleywood process is an industrial method for making bread in just three and a half hours using high-speed mechanical processes and chemical additives. It was developed in the 1960s, and now accounts for about 80% of the bread made in the UK. If you’re looking for palm oil-free loaves with zero additives, emulsifiers or preservatives, sandwich loaves are hard to navigate, but there are some that fit the bill – just check the label.
Feted for cooking up shows that can be mouthwatering as well as thought-provoking, the artist discusses his fusion of South Korean and European culture
When I meet Jaha Koo in Oslo, where he has just been honoured with the prestigious International Ibsen award, I hand him a congratulatory packet of Haribo. The alternative would be a jar of kimchi but one of the many things you learn from Koo’s captivating theatre shows is that air travel and fermented vegetables can be a disastrous combo. When he moved to Berlin from South Korea with 10kg of his grandma’s finest kimchi, it became “bloated like a dead whale” and exploded on his balcony. His new neighbours were unimpressed.
In Koo’s current touring production, Haribo Kimchi, he examines how this unlikely fusion of two foods represents his cultural identity. He does so while preparing an onstage banquet for two lucky audience members. Despite spending many years in Europe, where Haribo gummies originated around a century ago, Koo still finds himself considered foremost as Korean by Europeans. But when he returns to his original homeland he is not always seen as Korean either.
The model, actor and influencer is known for making her own frozen yoghurt, bubblegum or even toothpaste while dressed in immaculate haute couture. But she insists she is not who the internet thinks she is
Nara Smith is not a tradwife, she wants you to know that. Nor is she an ex-tradwife – pace the New York Times who included her in a feature on how ex-tradwives are as popular a movement now as the tradwives were in the first place. Nor was she peddling a tradwife-adjacent lifestyle choice by marrying at 18, having four children by 24, and devoting hours to cooking and documenting it online. Nor is she Mormon, by the way. Although, yes, her husband, the model and former teen heart‑throb Lucky Blue Smith, was raised Mormon, but we’ll get to that. Nor was she telegraphing subliminal religious messages in her content: “There is no secret agenda.” Nor was she abandoning her biracial heritage by wearing her hair in a sleek little bob. Nor was she leaning into a 1950s housewife archetype – even when dressed in a pink and red polka-dot minidress to batch-cook sourdough.
Smith wants you to scrap everything you think you know about her and start again. She also doesn’t care if you don’t.As with her content:“Those that get it, get it. Those that don’t, don’t. And that’s totally fine. I tell people: ‘If you don’t like my content, I won’t see you scroll past me.’ ‘If you need to block me for your own sanity, please do. I promise I won’t know.’ And if you want to stick around, that is beautiful, I’m grateful, welcome.”
This fantastic tart is a minor miracle invented by a legendary chef, yet it has very few ingredients and an intriguing technique for baking it
Often, the greatest dishes are made from very few ingredients and with pretty standard techniques, and this tart is one of them. It’s based on an old Frédy Girardet recipe that, despite his reputation as one of the all-time greats, calls only for a simple application of process to deliver a knockout result (which is one reason I put it in my latest book). A pastry case is spread with sugar and cream, then dotted with butter and sprinkled with cinnamon. The pastry is not blind baked, but filled and baked in a very hot oven. That sounds wrong, but it is not: a fierce heat is needed to bake the pastry under its filling and to meld the cream, sugar and butter. A pinch of flour is mixed with the sugar and, as it all boils up, that smidgen of flour holds everything together as it bubbles and reduces until it takes on the appearance of condensed milk while the pastry cooks and toasts at the edges. I still use Girardet’s quantities because, unsurprisingly, they work perfectly. Merci, chef.
Henry Harris is chef/co-owner of Bouchon Racine, London EC1. His book, The Racine Effect, is published by Quadrille at £40. To order a copy for £36, go to guardianbookshop.com
The Filter is turning two! To celebrate, we asked our contributors for their favourite products from the past year, and rounded up the team’s picks too.
From handbag-sized umbrellas and stylish yet practical wellies to reading lights and luxurious duvets, these are the products that stood out.
A touch of homemade scotch bonnet jam turns up the heat in this classic concoction
Our daiquiri sums up what All Roads is all about: familiar flavours with a little twist. Pineapple, rum and lime are a classic combination, and the addition of scotch bonnet jam brings a subtle warmth that makes this just as good for those first crisp autumn evenings as it is on a sunny day.
Malika Green and Paschelle Brown, All Roads, London SW9
A crisp surface and creamy core are the traits of this cheesecake with no base, here topped with spiced and sliced apples and a sticky, caramel sauce
My go-to cheesecake these days is a burnt Basque. It’s so good it doesn’t even need a biscuit base, which might be the very reason some people aren’t fans. But Basque cheesecakes are rarely too sweet, because the burnt top provides just enough bitterness to balance things out and the insides stay ridiculously creamy. If I can give you one tip, though, it’s to make sure you take it out of the oven while it’s still really wobbly, to get the best set. An overbaked Basque is no fun at all.
More research into the troubling rise in early onset cancers is needed. But we already know that food is among the culprits
The latest findings about the rise in cancers in people under 50, from the World Cancer Research Fund (WCRF), are extremely concerning. While a cancer diagnosis is bad news at any time, it is a particular blow for those in younger age groups where most people are in good health. Overlapping trends observed in England, the Netherlands and the US include a troubling rise in the incidence of colorectal (or bowel) cancer. Other diseases that have increased in England include uterine and kidney cancers.
These diseases are still rare in young people: 10 times more adults in their 50s, 60s and 70s are diagnosed than those in their 20s, 30s and 40s. Earlier detection is thought to be one factor behind the rise in younger patients. Diagnosing more cancers sooner is an explicit policy goal in England, where late diagnosis and lower uptake of screening are two reasons for mortality rates that are higher than elsewhere in Europe.
As summer fades and our social and dining habits adapt to the cooling weather, so, too, should the white wine we drink. Here are some options best-suited to the season
The wine world is full of clubs, and I’m a member of the Just-Drink-What-You-Bloody-Like club, which makes even the thought of white wines for autumn and winter feel uncomfortably prescriptive. But, for me, as the nights draw in, there’s less standing, more sitting; less chugging, more swirling; fewer sprightly aperitifs, more wine with seasonal food that demands a little more body and complexity. After months of saying yes to rosé, I’m choosing wine with more intention – it’s time to hunker down.
I’m looking for whites that are like a good cardigan, at once coddling and breathable. I want ripeness, body and freshness, and the Atlantic-influenced wines of Galicia in northern Spain – a place that’s no stranger to wind and rain – deliver. Expressive, with a saline edge, albariño from the Rías Baixas appellation has become ubiquitous in supermarkets and rarely disappoints (try Aldi’s Specially Selected one at £8.99), neither does the fuller-bodied godello from nearby Valdeorras (the Wine Society’s Exhibition range offers a good one for £14.95), while the blend of both those grapes and other local varieties from Galicia’s Ribeiro DO in today’s pick is a cool-climate humdinger for the colder months.
I lost my beloved cairn terrier Wilf a couple of weeks ago, and when I say lost, sadly, I don’t mean I mislaid him yet again on Hampstead Heath. Rather, after 13 and a half years of (mostly) civil disobedience, we had to make the tough but ultimately kind decision to say a final goodbye. Since then, I have been bombarded with kindness. Friends and family have rallied round to take me out for breakfast, lunch, dinner and coffee, clearly worried that the bereavement might affect my appetite – well, apart from the one who responded by having a baby a week early, and who now requires me to provide for her.
It got me thinking about the part food plays in big life events. We so often cook, or otherwise provide for people in the aftermath of such shocks, be they happy or sad, as a way both to offer practical help and to show them how much we love them. Such tokens of affection tend to fall into two camps. The first is high-energy food that can be easily eaten with one hand while the other is holding a baby or clutching a sodden handkerchief, or simply when you’re just too busy to sit down. Just this morning, I received a picture of the new mother tucking into my extremely wholesome fruit and nut-packed granola with her daughter sleeping on her arm, but Melissa Hemsley’s five-ingredient flapjacks (pictured top) would fall into this category, as would Meera Sodha’s chaat masala popcorn and Thomasina Miers’ dark chocolate and toasted walnut banana bread. Like Anna Jones’s chocolate chip cookie power bites, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s spiced nuts or my own kale chips, they’re full of good things, and tempting enough to compete with the less nutritious options that are so easy to reach for instead. (That said, no one should judge anyone for the choices they make at times of stress.)
It turns out all that time spent peeling and paring was entirely wasted. Now I’m gobbling them like apples and putting the extra fibre to good use
Every day’s a school day, honestly. How on earth did I get to just short of my 60th birthday before finding out that you could eat the skin of kiwifruit? Astounding, just astounding. What a revelation. It’s odd, because of all fruit skins, it’s probably the one that looks least appetising. Nice clean oranges and bananas almost beg to be troughed, skins and all, yet we know this is a no-no. But it turns out that all of this small, hairy, boringly coloured object can go down the hatch. Admittedly, I have been slicing the ends off first, but I might start eating them, too.
The first time is the hardest. You need to set aside years of prejudice against that hairy skin that you’ve been so painstakingly removing. Mind over matter. Initially, I sliced my kiwis longways and then each half into four. Now, I’m just eating them like apples. Sometimes three bites, usually two, occasionally just the one. I promise you, a lifetime’s fear of the fur evaporates in an instant. At least, for me it did. I have to report that when I talked my mum into giving it a try, she gagged alarmingly and swore at me with some venom as she fought to expel bits of skin from her mouth. Perhaps it’s not for everyone, after all.
These highly crunchable cheesy bread balls are a great way to use up odds and ends
Sadly, I’m never going to be able to recreate the cheese and bread balls I made a few weeks ago, because, of the four cheeses used, I recognised only two of them: a bit of gorgonzola and a slice of precious Montgomery cheddar, bought from Da Corrado, a stall on Testaccio market. The other two lumps of cheese, both wrapped in white waxed paper and both quite dry, were, I think, a piece of grana padano and the end of the pecorino we brought back from Umbria. But I can’t be sure, because I didn’t really examine them. Even if I had, it would have been hard to guess; the description “heels of cheese” is appropriate here. What I do know, however, is that the combination of those four grated cheeses with two eggs and enough breadcrumbs to turn the mix into a soft, malleable dough made for fantastic deep-fried balls.
The inspiration for using up the uncertain contents of the cheese box was pallotte cacio e ova, which translates as “little cheese and egg balls”, a typical and much-loved thing in both Molise and Abruzzo, which were, in fact, one region until 1964. Pallotte are resourceful, and were surely invented as a way of using up scraps of cheese (almost certainly local pecorino) and bread. Whatever combination of cheese you use, though, the important thing is to add enough soft white breadcrumbs – anything from 80g to 120g – to turn the mixture into a soft dough that you can then mould into balls, but not so compactly that the tenderness is lost. Like meatballs, cheese balls benefit from a rest in the fridge, so they can firm up before frying. The rest in the fridge also ensures that they are cold, which is important, because the thermal shock of the cold surface meeting the hot oil helps create a crisp shell.
It used to be quite normal to pop next door for a coffee or invite friends over for dinner. But not any more. What’s behind this change – and just how damaging is it?
‘I really loved hosting at home years ago, before I had kids, when my house wasn’t filled with toys and I had lots of time to plan and shop,” says Rehanna, 41, from Birmingham. Now, if she’s catching up with friends, she would rather go out. “I can’t host and cook at the same time, so if I have people over it will usually be a cold buffet I have made earlier. There are so many really nice restaurants where I live that I’d prefer to go out and try something new than make an old favourite at home.”
Personally, I’d never say no to a cold buffet – but Rehanna’s story is not unusual. In the US, the number of people who regularly host friends or family fell from 42% in 1975 to 12% in 2026 – a 70% drop over the last 50 years. In the UK, the numbers are not much better: last year, a poll of 2,000 adults found that more than four in 10 British people avoid hosting at home due to the clean-up it requires. And while chef Nigella Lawson is back on TV screens demonstrating her culinary prowess on The Great British Bake Off, it wasn’t long ago that the self-proclaimed domestic goddess revealed even she had “got out of the habit” of hosting formal dinner parties.
A landmark report reveals that the world must change the way it produces food to avoid a biodiversity collapse
Conservation comebacks for wild tigers, tuna and green sea turtles prove that global nature loss can be reversed, scientists have said. But a report warns food production must be the next “positive tipping point” if the world is to avert biodiversity collapse.
The World Wildlife Fund (WWF) analysed nearly 36,000 animal populations and more than 5,000 species, producing the largest ever database of vertebrate wildlife. Scientists found populations had declined by an average of 73% since 1970, showing that “nature continues to be degraded at an alarming scale”, with “no sign of losses slowing”.
This year’s harvest expected to be down 2% on mediocre yield in 2025, when production was lowest in nearly 70 years
France’s wine industry is facing a historic low harvest after the country was hit by a series of summer heatwaves.
At about 35m hectolitres, the total harvest would be down 2% on a mediocre 2025 yield and 14% below the 2021-2025 average, according to estimates published on Wednesday by the ministry of agriculture.
A creative way to use up the bits you already have around, all while getting in a healthy mixture of vegetables and whole grains
This hearty dish is inspired by the diets of the Blue Zones, or those regions of the world where people live the longest, including Sardinia, where minestrone is a staple. Dan Buettner, who studied these communities, found that their diets are generally rich in beans, whole grains and seasonal vegetables. I’ve generalised ingredients into groups such as alliums, rather than simply suggesting the standard onion base, to inspire you to use up whatever you have in the house and what’s in season; I’d of course also encourage further diversification with the addition of other vegetables and subtle spices.
...and Now We're Just More Confused. "A federal lawsuit filed Friday alleges that Starbucks is misleading consumers with a line of "sugar-free" drinks that actually contain a significant amount of sugar. The company denies the allegations, but a quick visit to the Starbucks website reveals that some drinks labeled as sugar-free also have nutrition labels that explain the beverages have as much as 21 grams of sugar."
Nutty in flavour and creamy in texture, autumn’s bounty of squash and pumpkin has many uses, both sweet and savoury
The shops are heaving with pumpkins and squash, and though there are so many different varieties to choose from, most of them are interchangeable. My favourites are kabocha, crown prince and delicata, for their deeply nutty flavour and creamy texture, plus they hold their shape well when roasted or braised. And if you’re carving a pumpkin for Halloween over the coming weeks, don’t waste the flesh: chop it up and throw into a risotto. It’s hard to imagine that such deliciousness could come from such a ghoulish grimace.
This shortcut risotto will have purists shaking their fists, but I like to live dangerously. Unlike traditional risottos where you stir the whole time, this one gets bunged in the oven with all its liquid, then right at the end, use a whisk to release the starches for a creamy finish.
Use a microplane to grate the parmesan over the risotto. This will yield a cloud-like consistency, but you could also just blitz the parmesan to a crumb in the food processor before grating the veg. I’d avoid buying pre‑grated parmesan, as it’s kept crumby with anti-caking agent, and the aroma is … not great.
Always wondered what everyday stuff celebrities buy, where they shop for food and the basics they scrimp on? The Queer Eye legend talks handmade gifts, secondhand shopping and bag obsessions with the Filter
Jonathan Van Ness rose to fame as the beauty and hair care expert on the multi-award-winning show Queer Eye. Their eight-year tenure as one of the “Fab Five” presenters ended when the show’s final season aired in January 2026. A hairstylist by trade, they have their own cruelty-free, vegan haircare brand, JVN Hair.
Beyond TV and beauty work, Van Ness has continued a career as a comedian, writer and podcast presenter. They have written five books, including the New York Times bestselling memoir Over the Top and their latest young adult novel, which they wrote alongside Julie Murphy, Let Them Stare. Van Ness continues to be an advocate for the LGBTQIA+ community, working on campaigns with The Trevor Project and Planned Parenthood.
Whether you sizzle, sweat, wet-fry or oven-cook, enhancing the savoury flavour of your mushrooms will depend on the variety, says our panel of fun guys
How do I cook mushrooms at home so they have the umami you get in restaurant dishes? John, by email
For Chantelle Nicholson, chef-patron of Apricity in London, boosting the savoury side of ’shrooms comes down to three main things. First, they hold a lot of water, so “you need to cook that out of them, so heat is super-important, as are fat and salt”. Tomás Gormley, chef-owner of Cardinal in Edinburgh, adds that he can “almost guarantee” that John isn’t using enough of the latter: “As a rule, I use 1.5% of the weight of whatever I’m seasoning. With mushrooms, especially, season early, before they hit the pan, to draw out their moisture. That resulting mushroomy water then cooks the mushrooms while it’s reducing and concentrating the flavour.”
But there are so many varieties of mushrooms out there, and they all behave in different ways, so John needs to be using the right ones for the job. “If you’re making a soup, puree or paté, field, portobello or button mushrooms are fine,” Nicholson says. “But if you’re looking for a delicious sauteed mushroom, say, ideally you need something with less water content – chestnut, shiitake or blue/grey oyster mushrooms. Heat oil in a pan, then add the shredded or sliced mushrooms, and season with fine salt straight away.” Nicholson would be inclined to toss in a bay leaf and some thyme or sage, too, and maybe a smashed clove of garlic. “Cook over a high-ish heat until lightly golden, then add a bit of butter and keep cooking until golden. If you want to enhance the flavour even further, a splash of dry sherry works really well.”
It’s being sculpted for fashion parties, collected by tourists and hoarded in freezers. There are even entire shops devoted to it. What’s behind the revival of the much-maligned foodstuff?
Temperatures in Paris were nudging 41C when Erwan Leo opened Le Butter this summer. Wildfires had already been tearing through France and the city was quiet, particularly in the less touristy 8th arrondissement, a flex-your-wealth area near the Eiffel Tower known as the “golden triangle”. The last thing it needed, you would think, was a shop that sold loads of butter. “We were just so worried about the fridges,” says Leo, the 34-year-old owner. “We didn’t think anyone would even turn up.”
I visit Le Butter, the first shop in Paris dedicated to selling the stuff, two months later in September. It’s a quaint, photogenic spot between a wine shop that was opened by Leo eight years ago and a cafe famous for being blown up in Christopher Nolan’s Inception. Inside there are candy-striped walls, little shopping baskets, a shelf of Instagrammable buttery merch (knives, hats, totes) and two double fridges containing 50 different types of butter. It’s a lot cooler today; the fridges purr away at an exacting 3C. And the past few months have been busy – so much so that Leo has had to erect a bench for those waiting outside, and a retractable barrier to manage the queues.
Breathable bedding, slanted tweezers and an indispensable garlic press … here are the buys you wish you’d discovered sooner. Plus, the best walking poles, tested
Sometimes a product changes your life – or, more likely, just makes your day 10% better.
Whether it’s something small-but-mighty (a gadget that helps you open a jar without swearing, tweezers that get every hair) or a more expensive item that has proved its worth over the years (a much-loved designer dress, a garden mulch-maker), we asked you to tell us about the buys that have made your life just a little bit better.
For years, eating was something to control, fear or regret. After I hunted my first deer, I started to see fat, hunger and my own body in a different light
I muffled my sobs with a pillow so my family couldn’t hear me from the adjacent room. I was 19 years old and we were in Paris, staying on the top floor of an old six-story walkup where every step echoed through the thin walls. I was trying, and failing, to hide the emotional war I had decided to wage on my body. Who does that on a family vacation? In Europe, no less?
Pulling tear-soaked strands of hair off my cheeks, I stood in front of a full-length mirror and grabbed the fat of my thighs. If only I could just – I pictured ripping off fistfuls of my body and flinging them out the windows, where they would land on some unknowing French person six stories below. I had this vision often: pulling bits of myself off and casting them somewhere far away from me.
Which salty condiment nails that deep flavour profile, and which is saltier than the sea? Our resident taster tries 10 soy sauces straight from the bottle
Soy sauce was created in China about 2,200 years ago, as a means to preserve food and to zhoosh up the humble vegetarian Buddhist diet. It’s a demonstration in kokumi – literally “rich taste” – a flavour sensation that’s often called the sixth taste.
I tested all of today’s soy sauces straight from the bottle, in all their intensity. I first identified distinctive aromas such as cooked potato, sulphur and broth (all typical in soy sauce and not as off-putting as they sound), alongside caramel and malty notes. The best ones are more nuanced, with fruity high notes and vinous tones.
Custard Cream. In A Jar. I'm stepping on Wordshore's toes here but he's busy talking about the Premier League so here's an article that made me laugh this morning while eating oatmeal.
The smorgasbord "is but a feeble although refined outgrowth of the pagan feasts among the Vikings. ... The accent then was definitely on quantity, as those primitive gourmands cared little about the embellishment of the table or elegance in manner."
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