Editorial Grid 1

Anything still good on a Monday morning goes into wrapped bunches at four pounds, and it is gone by lunchtime.

Forced Dutch stems arrive from November. We hold off until the British ones start in February, and here is why.

The season is brutally short. Buy them tight, keep them cool, and do not let anyone talk you into imports in October.

Paper, a wet wrap and one piece of tape in the right place. It takes ninety seconds and saves the whole thing.

A country on the wrapper tells you almost nothing. The estate, the year and the ferment tell you everything.

It is cocoa butter, sugar and milk. Made properly, with real vanilla and no vegetable fat, it is a serious thing.

Ganache has a fortnight in it. A box of twenty-four guarantees that half of them are past their best when you reach them.

You are lining up crystals, not hitting a number. Once you understand that, the snap comes on its own.

Nine tents in ten that come back as faulty are working exactly as designed. Here is how to tell the difference.

The camp meal we cook on every staff trip, with a shopping list that fits in one pannier.

Where you actually may in England and Wales, which is far less of the map than most people assume.

Head uphill, door across the wind, and never at the bottom of a bowl however flat it looks at six o'clock.

Pasteurising is not the enemy, but it does flatten the top notes. Taste the two side by side and you will hear the difference.

Two hours out of the fridge before it reaches the table. Wrapped in paper, never clingfilm, in the warmest part of the fridge.

One hard, one soft, one blue, and something you have never heard of. That last one is the whole point of the exercise.

Deep bite looks impressive and destroys the type. We set for a kiss and let the ink do the work.

Cotton rag over wood pulp, every time. Anything with a coating will feather and no amount of skill will save it.

Sixty-six characters, generous leading, and a margin wide enough for a thumb. Everything else is decoration.