Increasingly full-bodied and flavourful, low-strength British pale ales are growing in popularity, especially on the dinner table

There is nothing like discovering something for yourself to engender a fierce sense of loyalty, and that’s exactly what happened a decade ago when I fell upon the Kernel Brewery’s Table Beer, a pale ale of roughly 3% ABV. This is a brew that never fails to meet me where I am as a working parent with multiple identities but one brain, who often craves a delicious little buzz without loss of function.

Kernel brewer Evin O’Riordain tells me that sales have steadily increased over the past decade, and that 2026 has seen a tipping point. “For the first time ever, Table Beer became the thing we made the most,” he says. This is entirely consistent with the population’s collective interest in no-lo drinks, although, when it comes to beer, zero-alcohol examples are much better represented than low-alcohol ones (in the major retailers, at least). There are only a handful of the latter available in supermarkets, including Small Beer’s 2.3% IPA, Jiddler’s Tipple’s 3.8% Everyday Pale Ale (both Ocado), and Beavertown Satellite (2.8%) and Dark Star’s Hophead (3.4%), both at Waitrose.

​Before you throw away that jar with only a bit left inside, turn it into a dressing, sauce, glaze or even a drink instead

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It has been almost three months now, and we still haven’t replaced the cupboards that fell off the kitchen wall. It is also disturbing how well we have adapted to the chaos and having half the room covered with plastic crates that once contained vegetables and that now contain the hundreds of items that used to fit in the three cupboards, the collective weight of said items explaining the incident. The lack of cupboards has put pressure on the fridge, too, which has become a depository. That’s why, when I finally looked inside it properly, I found three jars of honey, each with between 2mm and 2cm at the bottom, as well as two jars of peanut butter, and a pretty much scraped-out jar of chocolate spread. At least all of those jars provided inspiration for today’s newsletter.

Making a dressing with the last inch of honey is perhaps the most efficient and satisfying way to deal with a near-empty jar. Pour in a bit of boiling water and some lemon juice, orange juice or red-wine vinegar, screw on the lid, then shake aggressively so the honey dislodges and dissolves into a syrup. Now add everything else – olive oil, a bit of mustard and whatever else you fancy – and shake again to emulsify. This dressing is great with one of the most useful, speedy and cheap salads in existence, namely shredded red and white cabbage, grated carrot, possibly with grated apple. Alternatively, use the same dressing on a seasonal salad of radicchio, hazelnuts and gorgonzola. And if the remnants in a jar happen to be mustard, do exactly the same as above, just inverting the order and adding honey later.

This dish of chicken in a lipsmacking citrus and oregano sauce has been handed down through many generations of Roman restaurateurs

If you look through the window of Piatto Romano between 10am and midday, there will almost certainly be two, maybe three people at the round table trimming vegetables: chicory, artichokes, poppy greens, amaranth. After midday, the crates and trimmings will have been cleared away and the table will now be home to trays of bright-green boiled vegetables and, maybe, baked salt cod. By 12.30pm, everything will have been moved into the small kitchen in time for service, which starts at 12.45pm.

When I first moved to Rome in 2005, Via Bodoni 62 was home to a restaurant called Da Rafaelle, which had white plastic chairs (inside as well) and served traditional Roman food with plenty of offal. We went to Da Rafaelle a few times before it closed in 2009. But, mostly, we went to La Torricella, which is on the other side of Testaccio and serves mainly fish. The owner is Augusto D’Alfonsi and, during lunch one day, he mentioned that he was taking over via Bodoni 62, and that his daughter Francesca would run it. They’d serve traditional Roman food with plenty of offal and it would be called Piatto Romano. This was 2011. My son was born later that year and my memories are not unpleasantly foggy; of the vegetable trolley in the corner, of chicken with red peppers and of Francesca and her father negotiating strongly. I also remember Francesca’s brother, Andrea, starting to be around more, before he eventually took over in late 2013.