The Aperitif Guy

A few weeks ago, I started to look at how to plan a good dinner for friends. I drew attention to the fact that serving food as a sequence of single dishes is a relatively recent phenomenon. I want to look this time at the alternative to that: service française - laying everything out together. It's what you do for one-course feats, table-suppers, tapas, meze, smorgasbords and sharing dinners.



This type of dinner is becoming more popular again as hosts and friends alike hanker after less formality in their entertainments. There's something particularly sociable in passing serving dishes around the table, dibbing in as something interesting passes, and discussing with the diners 'over there' what they have worth trying at their end. For the cook, this type of service has the advantage of all the work being finished: you can sit down with everyone else and relax, knowing there's nothing that'll call you away from the table - short of a wine refill - until it's…

This week marked 243 years since the English-speaking colonists on the American continent declared themselves independent of the British crown and organised themselves into a new nation. Whichever side of the Atlantic we live (or the Pacific, for that matter), whatever our tastes in cinema or music, whatever we think of this or that figure in American politics, culture or history, we still have much to admire in the USA, with its high, founding ideals of individual liberty, just government and responsible citizenship. For those of us with a taste for mixed drinks, July is a time to raise a toast to the United States for the gift of the cocktail.



There is evidence from as far back as 1806 of mixed drinks being called "cocktails," and an answer in a newspaper column to a request for a definition of the word gives a recipe for a spirit mixed with sugar, water and Angostura bitters. That seems to have fallen out of favour for a while, and by the 1860s, bars were selling Dutch ge…

I have given hundreds of dinner parties over the years, and I've come to love the planning stage. In my experience, the planning is the time of exciting fantasies about what you might cook, who you could invite and how your table will look. It's the most creative stage, full of possibilities. It's also the stage, when you start to hone down the ideas into concrete plans, that ensures your event will be a success - an enjoyable time for all.

Have you noticed how often people roll their eyes and sigh in mock exasperation whenever they say the words "dinner party?" For English people in particular, it seems to have become synonymous with social unease, moments of stress and panic in the kitchen, and generalised anxiety about whether you're getting it "right" (whatever that is).

I think that's a pity. There should be few more pleasant experiences than sharing food among friends. It's been said thousands of times, but I'll point it out again…

Summer brings a special character to my dinners. The table erupts with colour as I add edible flowers and specialist herbs like bronze fennel or red oxalis as garnishes. I have a loose-weave tablecloth that shows the colour of green, pink or blue undercloths beneath. Table flowers are chosen for their scent as well as their colour, and freesias are a favourite.

With so much colour on the dining table, I love to serve colourful and frivolous aperitif drinks, too. One such is the Douglas Fairbanks cocktail. As befits a handsome and daring actor, the cocktail is strong, sharp and fruity.


Douglas Fairbanks
60ml dry gin
20ml apricot brandy
10ml fresh lime juice
15ml egg white

Place all the ingredients in a shaker with ice and shake hard until your hand can't stand the cold. Double-strain into a coupe glass and garnish with slices of lime and cocktail cherries.



Pimms & lemonade has become synonymous with the English summer, garnished with heaps of fruit, cucumber and borage. If you…

As I write this, the ever-reliable English weather has just released another shower of rain. The week has been a mix of warm sunshine and cold, wind-driven rain, alternating rapidly. Summer is so often short-lived in Britain that the Beloved and I try to make the most of it when it comes. One of the our  pleasures is to sit outside with an evening aperitif, listening to the screaming of swifts, and blackbirds singing on the chimney pots.


Although I love a gin & tonic or a spritz as much as anyone, when I'm having a quiet moment in the evening sun, my aperitif of choice is an aromatised wine that doesn't even have a real name. I suppose it's the successor to the medieval hypocras or a very simple vermouth. It's made from rosé wine and orange peel and tastes not unlike marmalade. I found the recipe in Jeanne Strang's wonderful Goose Fat and Garlic, a book of recipes and remembrances from the west of France. I've made this lovely drink for a number of years no…

Regular readers of my musings will know by now just how much importance I place on a good aperitif. Indeed, it has become the quickest and easiest way to get the measure of a restaurant for me. Walking into a new establishment for the first time, we wonder "Am I going to love this? Is it for me? Will it be my new favourite or one I'll wish I hadn't bothered with?"

Order an aperitif and see how they respond. It'll tell you almost everything you need to know about the restaurant.

There have been restaurants where the waiter has shown us to our table, handed us a menu and walked away before we could speak. This tells me they're not expecting us to take our time here. They'll come back to take our order, but any drinks we order then will arrive with the starter. Best order a mid-price bottle of white wine and clear off as quickly as every other diner. They're not ready for customers who will lazily make their way through a meal, relishing every taste and…