The simple act of giving can get a little lost amid the tinsel and strewn ribbon of Christmas, and when time is in short supply there is something extra special about receiving the hand- and homemade. The kitchen comes into its own in the winter. The warmth of the home's heart carries the fragrance of rosemary and bay, simmering in stews overnight or baked into bread to be spread thickly with butter. As the evenings grow long, biscuit cutters will be unearthed from their bottom drawer muddle, tiny silver balls and candy diamonds strewn with icing sugar across the table. When my restaurant Polpetto opened, I remember my mum driving up to London, her car bristling with swathes of elderflower...
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