Recently I gave over my column to the joys of sherry and wrote about how well it goes with food. This week it is the turn of port. Port and sherry are drinks we wrongly associate with Christmas when in fact they work all year round.

The menu consents to being showered by Father’s Day gifts from his progeny; less grudgingly, if those gifts are designed to appeal to his innate gluttony.

Though it had been some time, at least a couple of Ice Ages, since The Menu had last trod barefoot through the fields to school, several years ago he returned to the groves of Academe.

Believing attendance at an Irish food festival is a state of grace any God-fearing Gael should aspire to on a near daily basis.

The Menu’s grievously overworked gob is always either eating or yapping from morning til nightfall, so the notion of a spot of yapping about eating at Foodcamp (Oct 26) as part of Savour Kilkenny Food Festival sounds most promising.