Fergus Henderson

Fergus Henderson’s breakfast rules

The ritual of breaking one’s fast has its place but should never be done at brunch...

Culinary sins may be committed in France, but it’s still the touchstone for kitchen bliss, writes Fergus Henderson.

Recalling moments that shaped his career, Fergus Henderson pays tribute to his late food-loving father.

After a battery of festivals and feasting, even the élite troops are wounded, writes Fergus Henderson.

The true magic of a meal shared with friends is at its most potent at lunch...

For Fergus Henderson the winter of his content is made glorious by the onset of grouse-shooting season.

As his restaurant comes of age, Fergus Henderson salutes fickle fortune and roast bone marrow.

Sentenced to life without chocolate, Fergus Henderson savours the memories and foresees his undoing.

Defender of the British culinary faith as he may be, Fergus Henderson outs himself as a closet Italianist.

Fergus Henderson finds that when catering for the kids, it’s best to resist the temptation to reach for the bottle.