The Scottish Mail on Sunday - You
‘I was annoyed he gave me a smaller glass’
The bestselling author, 71, tells Scarlett Dargan about drinks à deux by the loch, why only Champagne will do – and the one tipple she’ll never try again
My favourite drink as a child was Nesquik chocolate milk.
My mother was strict on sugar but she’d sometimes let us have it as a treat. I still remember taking a bottle of it to school in my lunch bag and when
I opened it, the chocolate milk had leaked everywhere.
I was so upset.
I start 99 per cent of my mornings with a cup of tea.
I stay upstairs and wait impatiently at my writing desk for my lovely husband [Desmond, who Katie married in 1972] to bring it to me. I like no sugar and just a dash of milk.
If I’m feeling especially virtuous I’ll have water instead.
At our home in the Cotswolds, we have one of those fancy fridges with a water filter and cooler on the front, but to be honest it’s not even plumbed in. So I just have water from the tap, always with ice so it’s nice and cold.
The first time I met my husband we drank Monbazillac, a dessert wine.
My mother and I were staying with friends in France and he was there. It was two days after my 18th birthday, 53 years ago now! Desmond was in charge of pouring the drinks and he gave me smaller glasses because he obviously thought I was young and innocent. I remember being very annoyed by this. Looking back, I don’t know why we were drinking it as an apéritif. But it was delicious and if I see it on a menu now I still want a glass.
I don’t drink alcohol very often. I stopped getting the relaxed feeling I had when I was younger and started to worry about my health. That said, I’ll never turn down a glass of Champagne. I have half a flute and fill the rest with fizzy water, and it makes a drink that’s not too sugary. I’m not fussed about mocktails or the like – they’re too sweet and I know I won’t enjoy them. I won’t bother drinking if it’s Prosecco, but I’ll take any marque of Champagne. That’s where my pickiness ends.
I can be tempted by a rum punch in Dominica, where I’ve been spending time researching my new book.
There’s a bar there that makes one with the strongest passionfruit juice, rum and lots of ice. It’s absolutely delicious. I also like a sip of Kubuli, the local beer. Kubuli is taken from the indigenous name for Dominica, Waitukubuli. It means ‘Tall is her body’ because of the country’s shape and mountains.
Our family cabin in Perth is where I have the happiest memories of drinking.
We used to take a bottle of red wine to the foreshore, sit by the fire and look
out over the loch as the evening closed in. It was always a special time, but what was slightly worrying is the fact the bottle used to go down so quickly. I’d think, ‘How is this happening? It’s only me and Desmond!’
The worst drink I’ve ever tasted is a gut-health smoothie concoction. It was terribly healthy with loads of vinegar in it. You know the people who say, ‘Honestly it’s fine, it’s so good for you, just drink it!’ You always know it’s not going to be fine and you’ll never drink it again. If I drink kombucha, it’s courtesy of my son’s wife. She’s Russian [where kombucha took off after originating in China], so I know it’ll taste OK.
If I could share a drink with anyone, I’d pick Robert Burns.
I think having a whisky with him would be very special. I’d ask him where all his ideas came from when he didn’t really have the sort of background you’d imagine would spill out poetry. And I used to be very fond of whisky. Burns and whisky sounds like my perfect combination.
It’s Mother’s Day, which has got me thinking about the food my mum and I eat together. We don’t live in the same country, so meals with just the two of us are few and far between. But when I do get the opportunity to cook, we tend to share quite humble, unfussy food.
In winter, I’ll often make a steaming pot of coconut red-lentil dhal when my mum is coming round. I’ve shared the recipe on these pages before (find it on mailplus.co.uk). It’s an enduring staple in my house – mildly spiced, made in one pan and perfect for freezing. It needs little more than basmati rice and a dollop of mango chutney for a decisively comforting meal.
In warmer weather it tends to be a low-key pasta, usually
Mum and I like sharing humble, unfussy food
beginning with slivers of garlic gently coloured in extra virgin olive oil. Halved cherry tomatoes and a good pinch of salt are added to the pan for a couple of minutes, then al dente spaghetti is tossed in, perhaps with some chopped parsley. It ends up piled on to plates with a cloud of parmesan.
Plaice is the fish we eat together, too. In fact I only ever eat plaice with my mum, which is a shame because it’s lovely, delicate and requires little effort. You can simply bake, fry or grill it with some butter, lemon and capers for a restaurant-worthy meal along with some new potatoes and steamed greens.
Do you have a great recipe for eating well and cutting food bills? Email editor@you.co.uk.
If we print it here, we’ll send you a bottle of champagne