Japan is a place where the soul finds peace amidst chaos

and that perfectly describes what touching down in Tokyo for the first time felt like to me. An indescribable sense of peace and calm in one of the world’s biggest cities. For 10 minutes before landing, all you can see out the window is Tokyo. A vast expanse of possibility waiting for us.

My wife and I went to Japan for the first time in May this year for our honeymoon. We had an expertly planned itinerary (my wife has the skills and research capability of a professional travel fixer, one of the infinite reasons marrying her was the greatest decision of my life) with the perfect blend of scheduled food and activities, alongside blocks of empty time to explore, or in honesty just sit down (the 30,000 steps a day is no joke).

On our very first night, fresh off the plane, we arrived at our hotel, abandoned our bags and immediately went on the hunt our first bowl of ramen IN JAPAN! I was desperate to try the viral sensation that is Ichiran. They say of themselves that they have…"Ramen Focus Booths - designed to allow you to focus on the flavours of your bowl with minimal distractions." I’d seen the videos all over my socials and I wanted to make my own to add to the thousands. We found one relatively easily, but were told it would be over an hour just to order, and then another thirty minutes before we'd even sit down.

It was at that moment - less than three hours after landing - that I realised the viral food experience I'd imagined, not just at Ichiran but throughout the trip, was something I needed to let go of. It was the moment I stopped chasing viral food and started chasing great food.

So with the new “just because it is viral doesn’t mean something else isn’t equally as good” philosophy in mind, we hit the streets again.

Ten minutes later we'd completely forgotten about Ichiran. We happened across a small ramen shop. It had a touch-screen ordering machine, three or four locals sat silently slurping away, so in we went. In less than 5 minutes we were enjoying a steaming hot bowl of meaty, flavourful ramen. The trip had finally begun.

From that moment on we had some real highlights when it came to food in Tokyo and here are just a few.

PST Roppongi

Now I know I have spoken about this pizza in a previous post, but I couldn't write about Tokyo food highlights without mentioning it again. The best pizza of my life. That’s it, that’s the review. It can be tricky to get a booking but my wife is a legend and secured us a booking before we had even arrived in Japan. They do also take walk-ins (if you don’t mind queueing).

Hibi Harebare Shinjuku

We visited this spot twice on our trip, once in our first stint in Tokyo, and once on our final two days before flying home. Now I am not always a fan of going back somewhere that was so great the first time. What if it doesn’t live up to the hype you’ve built up in your mind since the first visit? Also we are in Japan. There are SO MANY places to go. But, with all that said, I am so glad we did. By our second visit we were reaching the end of our two and a half week trip, we were pretty tired, already feeling super blue about flying back to reality, and so the familiar comfort of our favourite izakaya was very welcome. I loved sitting at the bar and watching the team just effortlessly hand-making sushi to order, like a beautifully choreographed dance. Like it wasn’t even a conscious act, just muscle memory taking over and making the perfect nigiri in seconds. The team were also super friendly and welcoming. Ordering via QR code gave us time to absorb the menu before making our choices, and also meant we could order bit by bit; we like to graze and add an extra plate if we still have a bit of room left, which we usually do.

McDonald’s

Now stay with me here… this might feel like a wild card. But I know we are not alone in our love of a holiday McDonald’s. I absolutely understand this isn’t gourmet food. I am not insulting your intelligence by thinking I am introducing you to something that everyone on the planet has probably heard of. I just think it is important to offer up a balanced perspective. Yes, we love handcrafted sushi and snazzy pizza, but also, we LOVE McDonald’s. And when you visit different countries they have things that you can’t get at home. So that makes it part of the cultural experience right? Well, that’s what we tell ourselves anyway! Definitely have the Ebi Filet-O (shrimp burger). It was as good as I had hoped it would be; this alone makes it worth the visit.

GyuKatsu Motomura

Gyukatsu is a Japanese dish of breaded, deep-fried beef steak (gyu meaning beef, katsu meaning cutlet). Similar in some ways to tonkatsu (breaded pork), but this is served sliced, and very rare in the centre because you get your own tabletop grill to finish the cooking to your liking. Usually served with rice and miso soup, and a variety of sauces and condiments. We really enjoyed this dining experience because it was unlike anything we had done before. It felt like one of the places we ate that was a really authentic Japanese experience. The team were also so kind in talking us through how to enjoy the meal “properly”, and what sauce went well with what. There are two warnings I'd give if you're going for gyukatsu. Firstly, it is HELLA rich; deep-fried steak is exactly what it says on the tin. Secondly, in a very small room full of people all cooking steak on their own tabletop grills, it gets pretty hot, and you (and your clothes) will absolutely smell like beef when you leave.

Konbini food

Now this isn’t Tokyo specific, but this is where we first got to experience the joy of never being more than 200 yards from Konbini and all the wonders they have to offer. I don't think I've ever been so excited by a convenience store. I’m talking 7-Eleven, Family Mart, Lawson, the list goes on. If I didn’t get my daily maple butter pancake fix the day felt incomplete. The hot chicken cutlets, the frozen crème brulee, the onigiri, THE EGG SANDOS!! Super well stocked for a quick snack, or a hotel-room buffet after a long, long day. We invariably ended our evening popping in for a sweet treat, and these pictured below frozen grape sorbet ball things (officially known as Glico Ice no Mi (アイスの実)) have a piece of my heart for life!

(and yes, I did get the konbini socks from all 3…and I’m not even embarrassed)

Hatoya Asakusa

When I tell you matcha in Japan hits different…!! Those guys do not hold back on the flavour, and they take it very seriously. I loved matcha before heading to Japan, but since our trip, I understand so much more about the nuance of flavour profile, and having tasted everything from everyday matcha to some very high-grade, snazzy stuff I can confirm you can really taste the difference. Hatoya in Asakusa was one of the best we had. It is very popular so we did queue much longer than we had anticipated (which went against our better judgement but the yearning for a matcha was real). That said, the end product was amazing. After queuing for nearly an hour, there was only one sensible option - the top grade matcha they had on offer. I had the matcha ice cream ball and my wife opted for the mochi balls to top. Both super delicious.

Tokyo fed us in every possible sense of the word.

We arrived excited.

We left completely enchanted.

It taught us to stop chasing viral moments.

To trust our instincts.

To wander down side streets.

To say yes to places we’d never heard of.

And perhaps most importantly, it reminded us that some of the best meals you'll ever eat are the ones you never planned.

We were sad to leave.

But Kyoto was waiting...

Share

Places mentioned

PST Roppongi -

Japan, 〒106-0032 Tokyo, Minato City, Roppongi, 7 Chome−6−2 六本木エムケイアートレジデンス 1F

Pizza Studio Tamaki on Instagram

Hibi Harebare Shinjuku -

Japan, 〒160-0022 Tokyo, Shinjuku City, Shinjuku, 3 Chome−6−9 山口ビル 1F

Hibi Harebare on Tabelog

GyuKatsu Motomura -

Japan, 〒160-0022 Tokyo, Shinjuku City, Shinjuku, 3 Chome−22−7 指田ビル B1F

Gyukatsu Motomura website

Hatoya Asakusa -

2 Chome-14-3 Hanakawado, Taito City, Tokyo 111-0033, Japan

Hatoya Asakusa on Instagram

Subscribe now

Somewhere along the way we've started turning our noses up at shortcuts. We’ve decided that the more difficult a recipe is, the more worthy it is. I couldn’t disagree more. As if making life easier somehow makes us worse cooks. I'm here to say it with my whole chest: down with the snobbery!!

If somebody makes a delicious curry using frozen onions, microwave rice, a pre-made spice mix and a stock cube after a ten-hour shift, they’ve achieved something far more impressive than me spending all Sunday making my own chicken stock because I happened to have the time.

So here are a few of the foods I’d like to rescue from the food snobbery bin.

Packet rice and grains

Now I know this is something I’ve championed before (a couple of times, to be honest... I should probably get some new chat), but pouches of cooked rice and grains really are my best pals, especially during the week. We all know how to cook rice from scratch, and we also all know that sometimes when we get home after a long day at work we simply cannot be bothered. Both of those things can be true.

If something as simple as microwave rice makes home cooking more accessible, then surely that’s a win? If the alternative is ordering a takeaway because cooking feels like too much effort, I’ll choose the packet rice every single time. It is super quick, it’s consistently good, and it is incredibly easy to pimp up if you want to. The perfect ready to use blank canvas.

Life’s too short to judge people for choosing convenience when it still gets a home-cooked dinner on the table.

Frozen veg

Frozen vegetables deserve so much more love than they get.

My freezer almost always contains peas and sweetcorn, but honestly, most frozen veg is brilliant. They’re picked and frozen quickly, they don’t judge you from the bottom of the fridge after three weeks, and they mean you always have vegetables on hand when dinner needs bulking out.

My idea of a perfect Monday night TV dinner is a cheats excuse for a pie using leftover Sunday roast chicken, mixed with gravy and any sad ends of herbs, topped with pre-made pastry and then an offensively large mountain of peas and sweetcorn. There is something nostalgic about “little veg” on my dinner plate that fills me with comfort.

A handful of peas stirred into a curry. Sweetcorn folded through fried rice. Frozen spinach chucked into a pasta sauce. It’s all fair game.

One of my favourite working-from-home lunches is almost embarrassingly simple: frozen peas, chopped chives, a handful of mint, a stock cube and boiling water, blended together with a blob of Greek yoghurt if I’m feeling fancy. Ten minutes, one pan and a surprisingly excellent soup. (Top tip from my wife, who learnt it from her nan: add a pinch of bicarbonate of soda when boiling peas. It softens the skins and makes the smoothest pea soup).

Fresh vegetables are wonderful; Frozen vegetables are wonderful too. They don’t need to compete.

Pesto in a jar

Fresh homemade pesto is undeniably delicious.

But let’s not pretend it doesn’t also require approximately three basil plants, a mortgage’s worth of pine nuts, half a gallon of decent olive oil and a chunk of Parmesan the size of your head. Who's got the money for that every week when we're all feeling the pinch of the cozzy livs?

Sometimes a jar from the supermarket is exactly what the situation calls for.

It is one of those ingredients that quietly rescues a midweek dinner. Stir it through pasta, spoon it over roasted vegetables, dollop it onto grilled chicken or fish, swirl it into soup or, my personal favourite, spread a little inside a cheese toastie before it goes under the grill.

Could we make it from scratch? Absolutely. Do we need to every single time? Absolutely not. Sometimes the best ingredient in your kitchen is the one that’s already there waiting for you.

Tinned tuna

This is probably the most controversial one on the list.

I get it. Tinned tuna isn’t for everyone, and there is hella food snobbery surrounding it. I’ve heard everything from, “You’ll never see a tin of that stuff in my kitchen,” to, “That’s only fit for the cat.”

Now, before anyone reaches for the comments, I absolutely agree that not all tinned tuna is created equal. There is a sliding scale when it comes to both quality and sustainability, so it’s worth buying the best you can and paying attention to where it comes from.

I also think we need to stop comparing tinned tuna with fresh tuna, because they’re simply not the same thing. They’re different ingredients with different jobs. Nobody is opening a tin expecting sashimi.

But there are certain things that only tinned tuna can do.

Take the humble tuna jacket potato. A National Trust café and garden centre classic, and firmly on the weeknight dinner rotation in our house. I like mine with sweetcorn and all the salad bits—peppers, cucumber and crunchy lettuce—chopped ridiculously small (roughly the size of the sweetcorn), all mixed into the tuna mayo with a squeeze of lemon and whatever herbs are hanging around in the fridge. Served alongside a perfectly crisp, buttered jacky P... Fresh tuna could never.

Sometimes an ingredient shouldn’t be judged on whether it’s the most premium option available. It should be judged on whether it makes you the meal you fancy at the time you fancy it.

Supermarket bread

We are firmly in the age of sourdough, and honestly, I’m here for it.

I never feel cooler than when I’m wandering home from an independent coffee shop, reusable canvas tote slung over my shoulder, clutching a beautiful artisan loaf from the local wholefood shop. In my head I’m basically starring in my own indie food documentary.

The reality is that this has happened... maybe twice in the last three years. Mostly because life gets in the way

Somewhere along the line, the rise of artisan bakeries seemed to coincide with supermarket bread becoming the villain of the story, and I don’t think that’s fair.

I’m a big believer that everything has its place. Sometimes that place is a lovingly fermented, handcrafted sourdough loaf. Sometimes it’s a supermarket loaf that’s going to become Tuesday’s toast before you dash out of the door for work.

I see artisan bread as a treat, which is probably why I buy it so rarely. Most weeks, I’m buying supermarket bread, and I suspect plenty of people who claim otherwise are too—they’re just not outing themselves on the internet like I am.

And while we’re here, a quick shout-out to Jason’s Sourdough, which somehow manages to sit happily between the two. A supermarket loaf with proper sourdough credentials? That’s a compromise I can very much get behind.

I think my point here is that there is a certain unacknowledged food privilege that comes hand in hand with the aforementioned snobbery. Not everyone has the time, money, confidence, skill, energy, desire, mental capacity or enthusiasm to cook every bit of every meal from scratch, and that’s ok.

I feel really strongly that food is an integral part of life and society, and if by taking some shortcuts or “cheating” a bit with some things, more people get a bit closer to food, or heal their relationship with food, or find a bit more joy and pleasure in feeding themselves or their loved ones, how great is that?

Food should bring us together.

It should nourish us.
It should comfort us.
It should fit around our lives—not expect our lives to fit around it.
It shouldn’t be elitist or shaming.
It shouldn’t be judgemental.

So if packet rice, frozen peas, supermarket bread or a jar of pesto gets another home-cooked meal onto the table this week, I genuinely think that’s something worth celebrating. I'm in the business of helping people feel good about food and making it more accessible. If admitting that I sometimes make Caesar dressing by mixing mayonnaise, Parmesan and garlic oil together, or buy a pre-slow-cooked pork joint from the supermarket so I have more time to enjoy life, makes just one person feel seen, then my job is done.

Sometimes the best meal is simply the one someone can actually cook for themselves.

That isn’t cheating.

That’s winning.

And ideally we’d like functioning knees, decent energy levels and a reasonably cooperative digestive system while we’re seeing them.

So recently we’ve started making some changes to how we eat.

Not because we’re trying to lose weight.
Not because we’re “being good”.
Not because we’ve suddenly become wellness influencers.

We’re just trying to look after our insides a bit better.

After my wife did considerably more research than I did into various sustainable ways of eating we have settled on trying to eat an anti inflammatory diet. In short anti inflammatory foods are those that are believed to reduce inflammation within the body. I mean, we all could have guessed that from the name. But what does this actually mean?

The potential benefits include improved heart health, better blood sugar control, reduced joint pain and stiffness, increased gut health, sharper brain function… At that point I was certainly willing to hear more. After all, if somebody tells you you can potentially improve your heart, brain, joints and gut by eating more fish and quinoa, it feels worth a try.

If I am honest when my wife suggested this new way of eating I didn’t really know what to expect. I hadn’t really looked into anti inflammatory foods before and it has been a really interesting process.

So the main things we have focused on for the first few weeks

• Cut out ultra processed foods (UPFs)

  In honesty, I thought this would be the easiest part because we are mostly a “scratch cooking” household. I was wrong. There are so many secret UPFs that I didn’t even think of. The thing that surprised me wasn't finding UPFs in obvious places like crisps and biscuits. It was finding them in foods I'd mentally filed under "pretty healthy". A chicken mince we regularly use has a few extra additives, so is a UPF, for example. Now, I am in the business of being honest with you, and there is one UPF that I haven’t cut out…Oatly Barista. I know I could switch to a different oat drink that has way less in it, but I just can’t. Oatly Barista has me in a chokehold and we can’t be torn apart.

• Eat more fish

  I’m not really a fish gal. This seems jarring considering one of my fave foods is sushi. I like fish at the moment I feel like eating it, and if you catch me outside this moment, no thanks, hun!! If it's too fishy, or there's one rogue bone, suddenly I'm questioning every life choice that brought me to this meal. But that said, I have really enjoyed adding more fish into our weekly rotation. We would have salmon weekly anyway, but we have added in sea bream and mackerel and it has made a real welcome change.

• Grains for DAYZ!!

  We have switched our standard carb (pasta, white rice, potato) for grains. I basically work for Merchant Gourmet at this stage. Glorious grains, delish; Red and White Quinoa (half toasted half straight from the bag, mixy mixy…), absolute fire; Brown, Red and Wild rice, stunning. The biggest surprise is that I haven't really missed our usual carbs. If you'd told me a month ago I'd be enthusiastically eating quinoa on a Tuesday night I'd have assumed you'd mistaken me for somebody else. The ready to go bags are such a time saver, and if you know anything about me already, it is that I love a quick cheat or hack.

• No sugar allowed -

  Now, this isn’t strictly true. Studies show that a high intake of added sugar can be associated with increased inflammation in the body. Things like sweets and sugary drinks for example are not the ones if you are trying to eat anti inflammatory foods. The difference is that some sources of sugar come with a whole host of other good things attached. So you might have a can of Coke or a bowl of strawberries and they would have the same amount of sugar, but the strawberries also have loads of great stuff in them like fibre, antioxidants, polyphenols and vitamin C. This has been one of the harder parts if I am honest. We just love a little sweet treat whilst watching telly in the evening so we are trying our best to scratch that itch with good choices. But did I also have a massive slab of red velvet cake at my brother in laws wedding this weekend…abso-flipping-lutely!!

Things that have surprised me

• I haven’t been hungry - I guess because of the types of food we are eating. They are sustaining me for longer, and maybe my blood sugar isn’t spiking? There is probably some science to it, but it has been a pleasant surprise.

• Sweet things taste SO sweet - Cutting out as much added sugar as possible has really made naturally sweet things taste sweet as heck!! Strawberries never tasted so good

• I haven’t missed the things I thought I would - white processed carbs are what I am secretly talking about here - white rice, sliced white bread, pasta... They are a thing of beauty, and I stand by that, but also, I actually went a few weeks without even thinking about them (don’t tell them that though!)

• I haven’t become one of those people - I think my biggest fear was that I’d become one of those people who can’t stop talking about fibre and politely declines birthday cake.

  Thankfully that hasn’t happened.

  I still love food.
  I still love eating out.
  I still had a giant slab of red velvet cake at a wedding.

  I’m just making slightly different choices most of the time.

Are we perfect?

Absolutely not.

There is still Oatly in the fridge.
And there will almost certainly be pizza in my future.

But a few weeks in, we’re eating more fish, more grains, more fruit and veg, and generally thinking a little harder about what we’re putting into our bodies.

We’re less bloated. Our cravings for sweet and salty snacks have largely disappeared. And perhaps most importantly, this feels sustainable.

Whether we’re technically eating a textbook anti-inflammatory diet or just being a bit more sensible, I’m not entirely sure.

What I do know is that I feel good.

And when there are still so many places left to explore, that feels like a pretty good place to start.

An apologetic little square of brown, not-quite-cake-not-quite-anything excuse for a brownie.

That is exactly why I don’t trust them.

The fear of disappointment is real and, quite frankly, I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life. Why would I willingly set myself up for heartbreak?

And perhaps that’s what makes brownies so fascinating. When they’re bad, they’re really bad. Dry, crumbly, overly bitter, weirdly sticky, oddly cakey. But when they’re good? They might just be one of the best things you’ll ever eat.

The origin of the brownie is somewhat debated. Some claim it was created at the Palmer House Hotel in Chicago when the owner’s wife asked the pastry chef to create a portable dessert for guests attending an exposition: something smaller than cake but more indulgent than a biscuit.

Others point to the first known printed recipe titled Brownie, which appeared in the 1896 Boston Cooking-School Cook Book. Interestingly, that version didn’t contain chocolate at all, relying instead on molasses. Over the following years, recipes evolved, becoming richer, darker and increasingly chocolate-heavy until eventually becoming the brownie we know today.

Which brings me to my mission.

To create the perfect brownie.

Or at least my version of perfect.

I want a brownie that’s firm enough to hold its shape, but so fudgy it practically melts in your mouth. Rich enough to be memorable, but not so intense that it tastes like you’ve accidentally licked a spoonful of raw cocoa powder. Deeply chocolatey, made with an obscene amount of both dark and milk chocolate. Sweet, but not teeth-achingly so.

It needs that signature dark, fudgy centre, but without crossing the line into raw batter territory. You know the texture I mean. The kind that sticks to your teeth and leaves you looking like the time my dad blacked out one of his teeth to convince my mum he’d lost it playing rugby.

Then comes the eternal brownie question.

Do you leave it alone?

Add more chocolate?

Throw in nuts?

Introduce another flavour?

The purists would argue that a brownie needs nothing more than chocolate, butter, sugar and eggs, and I have some sympathy with that position. I don’t really believe in adding things for the sake of adding things. Every ingredient should earn its place.

This particular brownie recipe is a hand-me-down from my food development mentor (who…spoiler alert, is now my wife) whose signature phrase to me was often:

“For the love of God, Becky, use some salt.”

She wasn’t talking about this brownie… just FYI. She inherited it from one of her mentors before passing it on to me.

We affectionately nicknamed it “The Chomlette” because its main ingredients are chocolate and eggs. Thankfully, it bears absolutely no resemblance to an actual chocolate omelette.

I’ve made a few tweaks over the years. I’ve nudged the sugar down slightly and shifted the chocolate ratio towards milk chocolate and away from dark, purely because that’s where my own taste preferences sit.

But honestly?

It’s pretty special.

My Ultimate Chocolate Brownie

Serves - 12 generous / 24 bite size (I’ll let you decide)
Prep time - 15 minutes
Cook time - 25-30 minutes

400g milk chocolate
150g dark chocolate
200g butter
200g caster sugar
4 eggs
30g cornflour

Line a baking tin with parchment paper (I used a 26cm by 17cm tin with about a 2cm lip), and preheat the oven to 175c.

Chop up the milk and dark chocolate into little choccie chip sized chunks. Save half to one side, and melt the other half in a pan over a gentle heat with the butter. Once melted and combined set to one side and allow to cool.

In the meantime mix the eggs and caster sugar together in a bowl, being careful to not add too much air (we don’t want a light fluffy brownie, we want it to be fudgy and dense, we want to add as little air as possible)

Combined the cooled chocolate mix with the egg mix until it creates a rich sticky batter. Add in the reserved chocolate, and cornflour and mix well one last time (add in any extra flavourings you are using at this point).

Tip the mix into your lined tin (add any toppings you are using at this point) and place into your preheated oven for 25-30 minutes. You want it to have a thin paper like crackle on the top, and be just firm to the touch.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool COMPLETELY before cutting into as many big or small pieces you like

I love recipes with a bit of history behind them.

This one started life with a food developer I’ve never met who went on to become one of my best pals, was passed down to my mentor who went on to become my wife, survived countless kitchen trials and tweaks, and eventually found its way into my hands. Somewhere along the way it became “The Chomlette”, and now it’s become the brownie recipe I reach for every single time.

Not because it’s fancy. Not because it’s ground breaking.

Simply because it works.

It’s the brownie I compare all other brownies to, which is probably why I spend so much time being disappointed by other people’s brownies.

So if you’ve ever been let down by a dry, cakey, underwhelming square of chocolate sadness, this recipe is for you.

May your edges be shiny, your centre be fudgy, and your brownie disappointment be a thing of the past.

Subscribe now

“Omg, I had this amazing burger at this cool food market on Saturday. We should definitely put this on our menu.”

The words that strike fear into the heart of almost every product developer.

Not because we’re precious. Not because we think only our ideas are good enough. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Most product developers I know are absolute food obsessives. We want to hear about every meal you’ve eaten, every TikTok recipe you’ve saved, every restaurant you’ve visited and every ingredient you’ve discovered. We collect food inspiration like magpies collect shiny things, constantly hoping one of those experiences will spark the next great idea.

But there is one crucial distinction:

Inspiration is not the same as replication.

And understanding the difference is one of the most important skills a product developer can have.

At its core, product development is problem-solving.

The problem might be increasing sales, building customer loyalty, improving profitability or strengthening brand reputation through food. But whatever the challenge, the solution is rarely as simple as copying something brilliant you’ve seen somewhere else.

Because the right solution has to work for the business you’re developing it for.

Let me give you an example.

Recently, I ate the best pizza of my life.

A bold statement, I know.

No, I can’t remember every pizza I’ve ever eaten. But if there had been another pizza that rivalled this one, I would remember it.

It was at Pizza Studio Tamaki in Tokyo’s Roppongi district.

My wife and I visited Japan on our honeymoon and were so determined to get a table that she braved calling Japan from the UK on the exact day bookings were released. After a £14 phone call conducted in a combination of English and the Japanese she’d been learning ahead of the trip, we had our reservation.

And it was worth every penny.

The welcome was warm and theatrical. As soon as we entered, our arrival was announced to the restaurant and the whole team responded in unison. We sat at the counter with a front-row view of what I can only describe as pizza artistry. Every movement was deliberate. Every pizza was treated with extraordinary care.

Before we’d even ordered, we were served a delicate mushroom soup. We ordered two small pizzas to share and quickly realised why they asked whether we would be sharing. The second pizza wasn’t started until we’d finished the first, ensuring both arrived at their absolute best.

It’s one of those tiny touches that tells you everything you need to know about a restaurant.

When I tell you that pizza ruined all future pizza for me, I am only slightly exaggerating.

So why am I telling you all this?

Because despite being utterly obsessed with that pizza, I will never try to replicate it on the menus I develop.

And that’s where the difference between inspiration and replication becomes important.

To recreate that pizza properly, we’d need different ingredients, different equipment, different training, different kitchen layouts and potentially even different staffing structures. It would become less of a sensible business decision and more of a personal vanity project.

“Look at this amazing thing I experienced. Now everybody else has to make it.”

That wouldn’t be fair on the teams expected to deliver it. They don’t have years of specialised pizza training.

It wouldn’t be fair on the guests either. We’d be promising them a product built on years of refinement, expertise and obsession, without having invested the same time, effort and resources required to achieve it.

Instead, what I take from experiences like that is inspiration.

Maybe it’s the care shown in the service. Maybe it’s the confidence of doing fewer things exceptionally well. Maybe it’s the attention to detail that ensures every pizza reaches the guest in perfect condition.

Those principles can travel.

The pizza itself cannot.

And that’s the difference.

Great product development isn’t about asking, “How do we copy this?”

It’s about asking, “What can we learn from this that makes sense for our business?”

The best developers leave their ego at the door. Because menu development isn’t about creating the food you personally wish you were serving.

It’s about creating the right food for the business, the team and the guest.

I’ve made life easier for myself by calling this a Part 1. There will absolutely be a Part 2, Part 3 and probably Part 47 at some point, depending on whatever ingredient I’m hyper-fixating on at the time.

But for now, these are the five staples (in no particular order) that I genuinely can’t go a week without.

1- White Mausu Peanut Rayu

Before I met my wife, I had never tried chilli oil or chilli crisp. She always had a jar lurking in the cupboard, but I was too intimidated to give it a go. I assumed it would blow my socks off.

Then one day she made us fried rice topped with the perfect crispy fried egg (a controversial choice, I know, but we both like our fried eggs criiiiispy) and drizzled over this crunchy, peanutty, oily heaven. I never looked back.

Fast forward a couple of years and we’re wandering around M&S when we spot a jar of White Mausu on the shelf. The branding looked cool, it felt like a vibe, so into the basket it went.

The company say themselves, “if we had a signature dish, this would be it”, and when I tell you it has me in a chokehold. I like a chilli oil or chilli crisp with plenty of solids, and this beauty delivers. It’s absolutely packed with peanuts, sesame, gochugaru and their own secret chilli blend. Rich, spicy, nutty and savoury, with just enough sweetness for balance.

For me, nothing else I’ve tried compares. It’s delicious on eggs (spoiler alert: eggs make this list further down), drizzled over dumplings, or stirred into cheese for a super-quick, flavour-packed quesadilla. Forgive the cultural mash-up, but it really does work.

Honestly, I struggle to think of much it doesn’t improve. Just get some and thank me later

2- Microwave sticky rice in a pouch

Now stay with me on this one...

I know I’m running the risk of exposing myself as a fraud and having my chef and developer credentials revoked, but I truly believe there’s a time and a place for a shortcut. I refuse to be precious or pretentious when it comes to food.

Do I believe in scratch cooking? Absolutely. Ninety-nine per cent of the time, if I can make something from scratch, I will. But I also think cooking from scratch becomes far more achievable in everyday life when you allow yourself a few clever shortcuts here and there.

I don’t actually own a microwave (much to my own dismay when I just want to reheat leftovers), but I LOVE a weeknight speed hack, and for ease, consistency and reliability, microwave sticky rice is one of my heroes.

My method is hardly ground-breaking: I give the packet a good scrunch to separate the grains, tip it into a frying pan with a splash of water and heat it through for a couple of minutes. I do think it benefits from a little extra seasoning, so I’ll often add a pinch of salt, a touch of sugar and a splash of rice vinegar to wake it up.

I’ve used it as the base for a speedy sushi bowl, alongside a katsu curry situation, or piping hot with some marinated cold silken tofu when I can’t be bothered to cook anything more elaborate.

You don’t need me to tell you what rice goes with.

All I’m saying is: don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.

3- Eggs

My mum always used to say, and probably still does to be honest,

“If you’ve got eggs, you’ve got a meal.”

To which I would roll my eyes and think, yeah, OK, eggs are a meal. Sure, Phil.

Fast forward a few years and I couldn’t agree more (sorry Mum!!). Scrammy eggs on toast for tea? Sign me up. Fried egg sandwich? Absolutely. I know it’s not the most gourmet meal in the world, which is probably where my youthful eye-roll came from, but as an adult who spends their life living and breathing food, I don’t always want gourmet.

I did Veganuary back in 2020 and, when I got to the end of January, I thought, I’m going to keep going with this. Not just for the shiny, trendy month, but for a proper chunk of time. I thought it would help inform my development for vegan diners and allow me to have genuine empathy for their plight when offered chips and a side salad.

And honestly, it really did.

Then, of course, we all know what happened. Covid hit.

I was living by myself in a flat with no garden and, like for so many people, it was rough at times. But through those first dark months, the vegan experiment continued. I grew to genuinely enjoy some of the meat alternatives and vegan versions of things. I perfected a plant-based ragù for chilli con carne and Bolognese. I still managed to jump on the banana bread bandwagon with a pretty decent banana and dark chocolate loaf.

In fact, I made it all the way to June.

Then one day I just cracked (no pun intended) and thought:

“The world is on fire. A girl deserves a dippy egg.”

It wasn’t bacon that broke me. It wasn’t a roast chicken, a fillet steak or bangers and mash.

Nope.

I just really needed a dippy egg.

Nothing quite compares.

4- Dill

Now I know this is a bit of a “hear me out” herb.

It can be wildly polarising, and I get it. Dill has a very distinctive flavour and, if you’re not a particularly confident cook, it’s probably not one of the herbs you reach for first. It’s no basil. It’s no coriander. Depending on the bunch, it can be aniseedy, grassy, floral or even a little citrusy.

But honestly? It’s my number one herb.

My auntie lived in Crete for over ten years, so she knows a thing or two about Greek food. It wasn’t until I visited her that I realised quite how important dill is across Greece and the wider Mediterranean. I’d always thought of it as the thing that occasionally turned up in potato salad, but there it was everywhere: folded through pies, scattered over salads, stirred into dips and sauces.

I think that’s where I really acquired the taste for it.

Now I put it in everything.

I think it takes a chimichurri to another level. I think it works just as well with fish as it does with meat. It’s brilliant in pickle brines and, frankly, is it even a proper burger sauce if that dill pickle flavour doesn’t hit you square in the face?

I probably use dill five days a week without even thinking about it.

And then there’s the fact that it’s just so pretty. Those delicate, floaty fronds tumbling over a smear of dip or scattered across a salad make every dish look like it’s made a bit more effort than it actually has.

She is my ride-or-die herb, and I won’t be told otherwise..

5- Spinach

I was scrolling back through the thousands (possibly millions) of photos in my camera roll recently and it struck me: I really am a spinach gal.

I hadn’t quite realised how often I look at a dish and think, you know what this needs? A handful of spinach.

A curry looking a bit sparse? Spinach. A soup needing some colour? Spinach. Pasta looking lonely? Spinach. A salad needing bulking out? You guessed it. It somehow finds a way into almost everything I cook.

Now, I will concede that spinach has one major flaw: it goes absolutely nowhere. We all know that a kilo of spinach, once wilted, is roughly enough to feed a moderately sized mouse.

And yet, despite this glaring weakness, she will always have a place in my veg drawer.

One of my ex-colleagues, who is now one of my best friends, used to look at newly developed menu dishes and immediately say,

“Spinach again... one of yours, Becky?”

I felt seen.

I felt understood.