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Don't call him Oliver - the British qualifier aiming to stun Alcaraz
Frittata, ‘egg and chips’ and a bean feast: Sami Tamimi’s brunch recipes from Palestine
An adaptable and satisfying bean and tomato feast, a moreish frittata packed with herbs and veg, and a Palestinian take on egg and chips
What better way to welcome the weekend than with the smell and sound of herb-loaded ijeh frying? This is a thick, delicious frittata-like mixture of courgettes, leeks, peas, herbs and eggs, and in Palestine it’s often made with finely chopped onions, too. I always keep a couple of tins of ful (fava beans) in my pantry for those times when I crave a quick and satisfying late breakfast or weekend lunch. When simple toast and butter won’t do the trick and I’m in need of something more substantial and savoury, that’s when fava beans come to the rescue.
Continue reading...Jam tarts and summer pudding cake: Nicola Lamb’s recipes for baking with mixed berries
A summer pudding-like cake that’s all red and soft with juicy berries, and a super-summery jammy shortbread tart
First up, a crostata-inspired jam tart that’s perfect for afternoon tea or nibbling throughout the day. Fennel seeds in the buttery pastry give a subtle flavour surprise, although you could omit them, or try coriander seeds or ginger instead. A small batch of jam is surprisingly quick to make, but you can, of course, use shop-bought, or make use of one of those jars living rent-free in your cupboard. Then, a summer pudding-inspired cake that makes a delightful centrepiece – the juices from the berries absorb into the top third of the sponge, giving it a gorgeous, ombre tone that looks as beautiful as it tastes.
Continue reading...He was the EU’s great Brexit survivor. Can Maroš Šefčovič now pull off a trade deal with Trump?
EU’s longest-serving commissioner faces arguably his sternest test with the clock ticking before 9 July deadline
In May 2019 Maroš Šefčovič was travelling with Donald Trump and his entourage to a liquefied natural gas export terminal in Hackberry, Louisiana. The then European Commission vice-president in charge of energy had flown with Trump onboard Air Force One, calling his wife as the privilege of a first-time flyer on the presidential plane. Once at the facility, Trump gave a typically rambling speech, in which he name-checked Šefčovič from the stage, pointing into the crowd like a gameshow host: “Maroš, thank you very much. Thank you.”
“Of course,” recalled someone familiar with the day, “when Trump pronounced his name it was a bit of a disaster”. But for a top-ranking official of a multilateral organisation, this warm welcome was probably as good as it gets when it comes to the US president.
Continue reading...Choose comfort, ditch boring and prioritise pleasure – how to find the perfect beach read
It’s easy to dismiss holiday novels as pulpy, but relaxing with a book you enjoy has huge health benefits. Here’s how to read yourself happy this summer
Leo Tolstoy’s novel Anna Karenina is a masterpiece. It has never been out of print. Luminaries from William Faulkner to Jilly Cooper have remarked on its brilliance. It is usually within the top 10 of any list of the “100 books you simply must read before you die”. However, I would argue that it’s a singularly poor choice of a book to bring with you for 10 days on the beach in Tenerife. Especially in hardback.
I really tried. Every day, I’d read two or three pages before realising I’d read the same pages the day before, and it simply hadn’t stuck. I kept drifting off during the more complex descriptions of 19th-century property law. I simply couldn’t see what Anna saw in Vronsky; he seemed dreadful, just a slightly different kind of dreadful from her husband, Karenin. My arms ached, the sand seemed unusually gritty, and on day four, as children shrieked and splashed around me, their parents read Jack Reacher books while I failed to understand the significance of Levin scything his fields, I thought, ‘No more!’ My luggage allowance was about 20kg. Tolstoy had taken up more than a tenth of it, and 100% of my headspace. I couldn’t relax. I wasn’t enjoying myself. When I found a Sophie Kinsella novel in the hotel gift shop, I almost wept with relief. It didn’t matter that I’d already read The Undomestic Goddess – my aching brain craved comfort and joy, and it simply wasn’t finding it on Russian railway lines.
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