Are you familiar with the adage ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’? Well, Nana knows the truth of it. Grandad has always been a man of simple tastes. He likes to start a meal with a full plate and finish with a full stomach. As long as the plate is warm and the food hot, not tepid or too “mucked about with”, he is content, with a farmer’s respect for good, fresh food. So it was with trepidation I cooked for him that first time at my parents’ house. Him on his best behaviour, nervously sipping at his beer, while Dad gave him the once-over. I made a chicken cobbler – I barely ate a bite, though it was savoury and delicious with a fluffy, light crust. Later, walking out to the gate, he proposed, citing my dimples and my dinner as qualities “a man’d be a damn fool to pass up”.