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There is something so lovely about old friends, families coming together and everyone just getting to know each other.

We were invited for lunch today by old friends and they had made SO much effort. The most stunning table, beautiful old china, crystal glasses and phenomenal food, packed with flavour and love. The sort of lunch that starts at lunchtime and just happily carries on…

And so lovely for me to be back in this house.

I photographed it five years ago, when it was a beautiful house. Now it is a proper home. Full of love, life, fabulous things, slightly bonkers corners and little areas that tell so many stories.

Its brilliant owner, a genius journalist and very dear friend, swapped Stoke Newington for the South of France and it feels like they were always meant to be here.

Lots of food, lots of wine, lots of talking and laughing, old friends and our families becoming friends too.

A really rather perfect French Saturday.Thank you so so much @lickedspoon and @en_croute it was heaven. #marseillan #longlunches #friendship #flavours #simplepleasures

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Hit me up with your listening and reading suggestions. Share the love.

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NEW SUBSTACK POST — What to eat & cook & read in January ✨

With food and inspiration from
@dianahenryfood @lickedspoon @richardjgodwin @doregan1 rachemc @r_mccormack @italianhomecooking

The direct link is in my Stories or Instagram bio

#whattocookinjanuary
#technicolourfood
#cookinginseason
#nettleandquince

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This week’s Guest Recipe from the #CookbookCorner archive is the Gruyère and Anchovy Puffs from the wonderful Notes from a Small Kitchen Island: Recipes and Stories from the Heart of the Home by @lickedspoon! And to get the recipe, please click on link in bio🥂
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Photography: @laurajayneedwards

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Autumn days - a special time@of year here at The Ox
Great produce and the surrounding countryside is looking fabulous. A perfect time to visit.

#autumnishere #winterescape #countrypubs #villagepubs #comfortfoods #seasonalcooking #autumncolours

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Un peu de Strictly et un peu de lecture grâce à Debora Robertson, alias @lickedspoon. Mieux qu’un roman !

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The piece sparking conversation on Scribehound Food this week ✍🏻
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Debora Robertson – The Devil’s Vegetable: A Love Letter
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Is beetroot heaven on a plate or the devil’s own vegetable? Debora Robertson shares her lifelong devotion – and her husband’s equally strong distaste – in this witty ode to one of food’s most polarising flavours 🍽️
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Read or listen via the link in bio 🎧📖
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#ScribehoundFood #FoodForThought #BeyondThePlate #FoodCulture #FoodWriting #FoodDebate #BeetrootLove #DevilsVegetable #ArticleSpotlight #DeboraRobertson

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The restaurant that sold us a town.

When Debora Robertson and Séan Donnellan took us to Oizillon in Marseillan this time last year, we looked at each other and thought yup, we could live here.

It’s a rare old thing outside the big cities in France to find such bold imagination in the kitchen, and this place seems to sum up the spirit of the town. So last night we went back. And look! It’s where the young folk have been hiding too.

We’re loving this adventure into the next way of living. We’re still not sure if it’s one place we visit more often, or if we’ll continue to wander, but more deeply and for longer. Brexit puts the kybosh on moving here as digital nomads, but for once that kinda works for us. A bit of here, a lot of Brighton - we could do that.

And at least we’re speaking French. Today, it’s hairdresser French. @dymphnaflynn has very kindly armed me with the extra vocab to train my wild locks into a French bob. I’ll let you know what happens…

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“Four years ago, I moved to Languedoc, South West France, almost on a whim, because I fell in love with a crumbling old house on a pretty port in the village where my husband and I used to go on holiday,” writes Debora Robertson.

“For some people, their Covid project was perfecting their banana bread, growing tomatoes, or learning to sew. Mine was struggling with interminable French bureaucracy, learning plumbing vocabulary, remembering that everything in our village closes for lunch for one, two, three or four hours, and gauging how early is too early to order a rosé in the local bar.

“After the first couple of months of working intensively on the house, I emerged blinking into the sunlight and shook the plaster dust from my hair, and realised it was time to make some friends.

“In London, we’d had a large circle of friends: people from school and university, from work, neighbours.

“We’d bonjour’d our way around our new village for several summers by the time we moved there, but we didn’t have any of those warm, intimate friendships we’d enjoyed in London. You can’t make old friends – but you have to start somewhere.

Four years in, we have noisy tables again, friends to hang out with, people to rely on in a crisis, and to call on when we just need a laugh.

At the link in @theipaper’s bio, @lickedspoon shares how she did it.

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Well, we survived (just) the most amazing week in #Marseillan for our dearest friend @lickedspoon 60th birthday. We laughed, we cried, drank rose, and smiled a lot. Thank you to all of the #Marseillancrew. Cannot wait for next year 🥰

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This is what happens when lightning strikes the vermouth distillery you are celebrating a darling friend’s birthday in, all the leccy goes out, and the staff panic and stampede you into the entrance hall IN AN UNPREDICTED TEMPEST #DRAMA #BIRTHDAY DRAMA

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