Setting fire to your trousers

More absurdities of kitchen life. Raspberry ganache, too much beer and soggy feet

I had my trousers set fire to by a good friend one lunchtime. While I was wearing them. With a blowtorch.

My bicycle was once decorated with fishy innards from a box of squid. I had my Birkenstocks baked in puff pastry, neatly covered with Italian meringue with cherries sat proudly on top of both left and right, neatly placed in my shoe locker, just to s…