Recipes are about creating a legacy, don't you think? In my 'Write Recipes that Work' my guidance is not only how to write a recipe that works, but also how to write one that sounds delicious: inviting and one that needs to be used down the generations. Or even featured in your cookbook or memoir? How much do you think I should charge for that module? At the moment it's a one-off price of $35. Then it's yours forever. Here's a recipe written by dear friend and chef Arnold Tanzer. It's a spot-on example of how to write a recipe. 𝘚𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 White asparagus arrives in the Netherlands with the strange dignity of visiting royalty and the emotional fragility of a peony. For six brief weeks the country loses its mind politely. Roadside farm stalls reopen. Restaurants suddenly place vegetables in the centre of the plate as if they have discovered morality. Entire villages perfume themselves with melted butter. Then, almost immediately, it is over. That is the nature of white asparagus. It emerges from sandy ground pale and tightly held, protected from sunlight entirely. Handling it requires patience more than skill. The peeler moves downward in long careful strokes. Fibres collect on the board like pencil shavings. One missed strip and the stalk punishes you at the table later. White asparagus remembers negligence. The cooking water matters. Salt first. Then a teaspoon of sugar and a small splash of vinegar. A knob of butter. Not enough to taste individually — only enough to steady the whole thing. The sugar rounds the bitterness at the edges. The vinegar sharpens the sweetness. Dutch cooking rarely announces its intelligence; it prefers understatement. Nearby, potatoes simmer toward collapse. Butter melts slowly in another pan until the water disappears and the milk solids begin drifting toward hazelnut territory. 𝘞𝘦𝘨𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘳. Butter pushed just beyond. The asparagus arrives steaming, carrying the faint mineral smell of wet sand and warm fields. Potatoes beside it, splitting open at the edges. Ruffled shaved Ham softening from the residual heat. Egg scattered over everything, in yellow and white fragments that resemble spring light through curtains.

Born from the high Andes, the potato conquered Europe to become the ultimate comfort fuel. Golden, crisp jackets give way to a steaming, fluffy interior — a cloud of pure comfort. Salted, buttered, or roasted in rich fats, it carries the weight of empires, revolutions, and humble, fireside family suppers across centuries. BAKED GARLIC PARMESAN POTATO WEDGES Ingredients: 4 large russet potatoes, washed and cut into wedges 1/4 cup olive oil 3 cloves garlic, minced 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese 1 tsp paprika 1 tsp dried oregano 1/2 tsp garlic powder 1/2 tsp onion powder Salt and black pepper, to taste Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish Instructions: 1. Preheat the oven: Preheat your oven to 400°F (200°C). Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper or lightly grease it. 2. Cut the potatoes into wedges (about 8 wedges per potato) and soak them in cold water for 20-30 minutes. This helps remove excess starch for extra crispiness. Drain and pat the wedges dry with a clean kitchen towel. 3. In a large bowl, mix olive oil, minced garlic, Parmesan cheese, paprika, oregano, garlic powder, onion powder, salt, and pepper. Add the potato wedges and toss until evenly coated. 4. Place the seasoned potato wedges on the prepared baking sheet in a single layer, skin-side down. 5. Bake for 35-40 minutes, flipping halfway through, until the wedges are golden brown and crispy. Sprinkle the baked potato wedges with additional Parmesan cheese and chopped parsley. Serve hot with your favorite dipping sauce (like ranch or garlic aioli). These Baked Garlic Parmesan Potato Wedges are crispy on the outside, gloriously fluffy on the inside, and bursting with garlicky, cheesy flavour. ***** Sooo here's my question: which is your favourite way of preparing potatoes? If a salad, tell us your secret!