Bensoir! It's me, Benjamin. I like to eat and drink. And cook. And write.

You may have read stuff I've written elsewhere, but here on my own blog as Ben Viveur I'm liberated from the editorial shackles of others, so pretty much anything goes.

BV is about enjoying real food and drink in the real world. I showcase recipes that taste awesome, but which can be created by mere mortals without the need for tons of specialist equipment and a doctorate in food science. And as a critic I tend to review relaxed establishments that you might visit on a whim without having to sell your first-born, rather than hugely expensive restaurants and style bars in the middle of nowhere with a velvet rope barrier, a stringent dress code and a six-month waiting list!

There's plenty of robust opinion, commentary on the world of food and drink, and lots of swearing, so look away now if you're easily offended. Otherwise, tuck your bib in, fill your glass and turbo-charge your tastebuds. We're going for a ride... Ben Appetit!

Thursday, October 6, 2022

Bass is just another beer

The sad loss of our Queen last month will have affected different people in different ways.

For me, it brought about a rather shameful realisation. Specifically, about the Corgis.

You see, I had assumed, for my entire life, that having Corgis as pets was just what the monarch did - a bit like sitting on a throne or owning the Crown Jewels. Corgis went with the job.

Queen. Throne. Jewels. Corgis. 

This I learned from an early age, probably about four or five, but it was never explained to me that liking a certain breed of dog just happened to be a personal preference of the individual who was currently the Queen, and given that the reigning monarch never actually changed, I carried on with this assumption until, quite literally, just the other day.

I genuinely didn't realise that they were unique to Elizabeth II.