 It seems the latest scandal in the gourmet food world is fake Italian “virgin” olive oil. A new expose reveals that most Italian olive oil is a far cry from virgin, and certainly from “extra virgin,” laughs the Countess du Ruel. Virgins are few and far between these days, even the bottled variety. Not only that, most Italian olive oil isn’t from Italy.
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 Let’s talk turkey! enthuses Mrs M. Yes, it’s that time of the year when we begin clipping the greenery from the garden and put holly sprigs over all the pictures. The heady smell of pine needles and mulled wine wafts through the house. The entrance hall is decked with red and green ribbons. Gingham angels and giant pine cones find their way onto front door wreaths.
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The arrival of Seville oranges has been described as a” bitter sweet epiphany” muses the Countess du Ruel. I eagerly await the day in dullest winter when these knobbly and ugly citruses from Seville arrive for marmalade season. The season’s short and tart, but the result is sublime. Bon Apetito!
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It’s that time of the year when wine shop blackboards announce that the new season’s Beaujolais has arrived, cheers the Countess du Ruel. About the same time supermarkets, like Waitrose, copy this with a Vacherin Est Arrivée notice, meaning the creamy Mont-d’Or cheeses in little round wooden boxes are on the shelves.
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The UK is in the grip of nostalgia, sighs Mrs M. Downton Abbey is a well-bred period drama about the life and times of the aristocratic Crawley family as they gallop through the defining events of the early 20c. Whether you’re entranced by Julian Fellows’ attempt to recapture the world of Brideshead Revisited, or find the whole plot hysterically funny, there’s no doubting that these shenanigans have us riveted to series 2 and following the backsides of the Earl of Grantham’s dogs, Pharoah and Isis.
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