It’s a known fact that British food is remarkably bad. And although lads like Gordon Ramsay, Jamie Oliver and the rather lovely Nigella Lawson are doing their best to resurrect fishcakes through publishing books, British food hasn’t really been able to raise the bar. In this case, the ladle.

However, chaps like Nigel Slater are clever. They write about things that even a Brit chef can’t mess up. He last wrote Toast. I recently read another nugget called Thirst. When you spend nights drinking unhealthy things, you spend the day drinking healthier potions.

Slater writes a much applauded weekly column in The Observer. Thirst is about (smart chaps, you’ll guessed it) juices. Now there is a breed that views juices as an unnecessary evil, a rabid ritual reserved for the completely unhealthy or the obsessive. I do a lauki and karela juice every day. Tastes like dishwater but wonderful for the blood.

In Thirst, Slater conjures up recipes containing odd bedfellows. For instance a Banana Lemon Smoothie. If you fancy something a tad more minty and refreshing, he recommends a celery, mint, melon and lime concoction. For Sunday mornings, he recommends Tomato Crush, a charming gathering of peppers, tomatoes, red chillies and Worcestershire sauce along with a dash of Tabasco. Slater’s easy writing style is accompanied by some magical photographs by the terribly talented Angela Moore. A book worth referring to every morning.

Josephine Hart is a woman of many parts. She has authored some rather successful books. She runs an absolutely amazing club of sorts called The Josephine Hart Poetry Hour where distinguished dandies read from Dante down to Arnold. But I think Josephine Hart really won her furs with an incredible book called Damage, which was subsequently made into a ferocious film. The screenplay is by David Hare. And the film is directed by Louis Malle.

It is about an ageing politician, played gigantically by Jeremy Irons, who notices an attractive woman at an embassy party (Juliette Binoche). Which on the face of it is quite an ordinary matter but for the fact that she is already in a relationship with his son (Rupert Graves). The entire film is sexually energetic and is packed with deceit and desire. But it is the climax of the film that shocks you through its brutal sadness. This film is about the dark side of lust. Each of the performances are compelling. The Financial Times of London called Damage “a brilliant film”. It is, in my mind, staggering.

Paolo Conte was born into a family of solicitors in Italy. Like a good lad, he studied law and soon realised that life had a different brief for him. Conte is arguably a more prized produce from Italy than Parma ham. The legendary composer and singer has a raspy voice and casual approach to his music.

While I’ve consumed most of his compilations, you should start with The Best of Paolo Conte. There’s Blue Tangos, which has a piano-centric start and a great melody running down its spine. Gioco d’Azzardo is another gorgeous track. Via Con Me is flirty and has a charming canter. Alle Prese Con Una Verde Milonga is a great background track to a book.

There is a hallmark to all of Conte’s creations. He firmly believes in the barest of instrumentation. No complicated orchestration in his work. Some of the songs in the album are in English. The rest are in Italian. Language never comes in the way of the music I enjoy and recommend. And as this column kind of shapes up you will be quick to realise that Swahili is as sweet as Spanish. You don’t need open ears to appreciate great music. Just an open mind, in my book.

Photographs by Rupinder Sharma