So much has been written about Elizabeth David over the years that it is almost an impertinence even to dare to add one’s voice to the Rowley Leighs and Hugh Johnsons of this world, never mind to earlier generations of wine and food writers, going back to people like Cyril Ray. Ever since her lone voice broke through the fog of postwar Britain, David has been quite rightly hailed as the woman who single-handedly changed the face of British food.

Younger people today probably have no idea of the disgusting muck that passed for food in those days, of the thick gravy and stodgy dollops of mashed potato served from ice cream scoops, the watery vegetables and over-cooked meat, the huge grey peas and the tapioca pudding. But suddenly, the