Every Sunday during the school holidays, my Nan would happily give me her knob.
She always knew it was guaranteed to bring a smile to my face.
Sometimes twice, if I was lucky.
There’s something special about the caramelised knob end of both sweet and savoury delights.
It’s not perfect, just right.
They way they pick up all of the flavour of whatever you coat or rub them in.
Sure I like the middle best. A nice medium-rare bit of beef. Or the moistness of a banana loaf, steaming – straight out of the oven.
But, even now, some 30 odd years later – I still like to carve/cut off the end of the roasting joint or cake and save it all for myself.
You could never tell if the food is cooked to perfection just by eating the knob – but as Proustian rushes go – it takes me straight back to that small kitchen in Kensal Green. Every time.
Image: The knob end of this week’s banana loaf