Every November, Britain enters a kind of seasonal delirium. One moment, the supermarket shelves are lined with perfectly sensible meal deals; the next, they’re stuffed with turkey, stuffing, cranberry chutney and whatever new “innovation” the nation’s product developers have dreamt up in a windowless room.
Overnight, the humble sandwich becomes a festival of overcomplication: pigs-in-blankets ciabattas, Yorkshire pudding wraps, Boxing Day curry wedged between slices of onion bread, porchetta baguettes littered with parmesan, cranberries and shredded apple.
