Most certainly it is, if a feelthy bloke might be permitted to give a perspective. It carries the unmistakable hint that you just might be induced to take another turn, if only someone good enough would step up. Red rag to this bull.

I was given high-end French cookware not by my mamma (though she taught me much, and I too loved to trail round after her when she was cooking, asking questions) but as a parting gift from the university department I moved on from at the end of 1997. I was so thrilled by their superb taste (two pieces of deep cherry-red Chasseur: a big oval casserole and a terrine with a lid) that I almost changed my mind about leaving.

I feel very grateful that my mother would let a little kid loose on half kilo piece of fillet steak

But not a word on the bottle of cooking sherry. I see what you did there.

Lovely post – wish i could train mine up. I fear I’ve left it too late.