jamie oliver

There’s something ancient and honest about chicken noodle soup. It’s the first thing I cook when someone’s ill, heartbroken, or just worn out from the …

It was raining sideways the first time I made this soup. You know the kind of day — grey, damp, where your jeans stay wet …

There’s something about roasted cauliflower that just smells like home. Not the loud, bustling kind of home with every cupboard open and the telly blaring …

There’s something wildly comforting about a bowl of onion soup bubbling away, filling the kitchen with that slow, savoury sweetness. For me, it brings back …

This one reminds me of a late September evening I spent in Sicily, sitting on a worn wooden stool by a crumbling harbour wall, watching …

Alright, you know that drawer in your fridge where vegetables go to die? Yeah, the one filled with half a zucchini, one wrinkly carrot, and …

This soup reminds me of rainy Saturdays growing up — the kind where the windows were misted up and everything outside felt a bit grey, …

Alright, let’s just say it — there’s only so many turkey sandwiches a person can eat. Don’t get me wrong, I love leftovers. But by …

There’s something lovely — almost meditative — about making roasted tomato soup. The chopping, the slow roast, that deep smell of tomatoes caramelising in the …

The smell of roasting parsnips always takes me back to my gran’s tiny kitchen on a cold November evening — windows fogged up, a wool …