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Some dishes make a lasting impression, and this week two memorable creations from Rome and London meet to inspire a nutty salad of creamy gorgonzola and mixed leaves

Recently, I listened to the Italian chefsNiko RomitoandSalvatore Tassain conversation about Italian food culture, and in particular the role of the trattoria. During the warm conversation, Romito, who is one of Italy’s most visionary chefs and whoseRistorante Realein Abruzzo has three Michelin stars, spoke about the first time he ate at Tassa’sNu’ Trattoria Italiana dal 1960in Acuto, which is in the province of Frosinone about an hour south of Rome. Romito recalled the homely atmosphere and Tassa as an old-school host: welcoming, communicative and the conduit (which didn’t sound pretentious when he said it) between local traditions, producers and those who came to eat. But Romito also described a dish of onions, simply braised, but of such goodness that he couldn’t stop thinking about and imagining them. In fact, Romito credits those onions as being the starting point for one of his own most well-known dishes: “absolute” onion broth with parmesan-filled pasta and toasted saffron. Tassa returned the affection and respect, before both chefs reminded those of us listening that everything begins and ends with the ingredients.

On the bus on the way home, I kept thinking about Romito thinking about those braised onions, which led me to think about the times I have left a table in a trattoria, restaurant, cafe, pub, chip shop or friend’s housereallythinking about something. And how those thoughts are quite rare and completely different from simply remembering a dish or liking something; they are vivid and intrusive thoughts. The deep-fried mashed potato and mozzarella ball from the canteen just under our flat last week; the gravy around the liver and onions at a local trattoria; hazelnuts on the salad at the same trattoria; a plate of green beans that tasted like butter; the honey dressing on a salad that has been nagging me since January.

This week’s column is an attempt to deal with some of that nagging by combining elements of two salads that have stayed with me like an anxious memory. The first is the bitter greens and toasted hazelnut salad at a trattoria calledPiatto Romanohere in Testaccio, while the second is the radicchio, almond, gorgonzola and honey salad fromBocca di Lupoin Soho, London. I did feel a bit like Romito, taking the inspiration into my kitchen, although I can’t claim to have invented anything. I can confirm, though, that there is no better way to dress a salad than with hands (very clean or covered with those very thin rubber gloves), because it means every single leaf gets the benefit of the dressing. You can use any leaves, but a mixture of something crisp such as romaine, little gem or beluga chicory alongside the softer leaves of round radicchio all work well. And look out for creamiergorgonzola dolce(sweet) rather than the firmergorgonzolapiccante(sharp).

Alongside bread, and with the option of more cheese, this salad is a light meal for two; it also goes well with roast chicken, baked potatoes or alongside a couple of other salads. I would suggest putting it with deep-fried potato balls, but I have not worked through that thought yet.

1 romaine lettuce, or two little gems1 small headradicchio6 tbspextra-virgin olive oil1 tbsp honey1 tbspred-wine vinegar1 tspdijon mustardSalt100g toasted hazelnuts150ggorgonzola dolce,broken into small pieces

Break all the lettuce into leaves, wash them in cold water, dry thoroughly, then rip into bite-sized pieces.

Working in a large bowl, use a balloon whisk to mix the olive oil, honey, red-wine vinegar, dijon mustard, a teaspoon of warm water and a pinch of salt into an emulsified dressing, adjusting to taste.

Add the leaves to the bowl and toss really well so every leaf is coated – your hands are easily the best tool for this. Add half the nuts and half the cheese, then gently toss again.

Tip the dressed salad on to a large plate, scatter over the remaining cheese and nuts, and serve immediately.

Lebanon is one of the most ancient wine-producing regions of the world, so it’s well worth our attention

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Lebanon has one of, if notthemost ancient winemaking traditions in the world, so it stands to reason that we ought to drink more of it. This historic wine industry started way back with the Phoenicians, who spread viticulture throughout the Mediterranean, and then, in 1857, Jesuit monks planted vines from Algeria in the Bekaa valley, in an area that is today one of the country’s most prestigious wine-producing regions.

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Today there are some 80 wineries in operation in the Bekaa, most of them with a decided focus on French grapes – cabernet sauvignon, cinsault, merlot, sauvignon blanc and chardonnay all get a lot of love – but native grapes such asobaideh,merwah, jandali and hamdali also feature in the production of wine and arak, a distilled anise spirit.

The best of these wineries are defined by their altitude. Whereas the areas by the coast are flat and hot, and perhaps too much so to produce complex wines, the more mountainous regions of Mount Lebanon, Jezzine, Batroun and the Bekaa valley are able to yield wines of good quality. The higher altitude allows for a distinct diurnal temperature range – that is, the difference between day and night temperatures in the vineyard – and a large range can allow grapes to develop properly (heat in the day to ripen the grapes and coolness at night to train acidity).

The outlier for these modern, prestige wines is, by far, the renownedChâteau Musar, which may well be the first and only Lebanese wine many of us have tried. Inspired by his travels to Bordeaux, Gaston Hochar first planted vines on what became the Musar estate back in 1930, and during the Lebanese civil war, his eldest son Serge switched the winery’s focus to exports, especially to the UK, a move credited for its prominence in the west today. That’s why you can now find Musar at many prestige importers, as well as a couple of supermarkets.

Musar’s is a story defined by a Lebanon at war, which continues to this day – last year, the eastern Bekaa valley was one of the areas most severely affected by Israeli air strikes – but this is not something that will define Lebanese wine, insistsHenna Bakshi, an award-winning wine journalist who has reported extensively on war-zone wines: “No region will ever want to be known for war,” she says. “We must understand that – this is historical context. The quality of wine coming from the region, despite the impossible, is still absolutely incredible. I’d suggest blind tasting top Lebanese producers to understand the quality of their winewithoutthe context.”

Local winemakers are finding new ways to overcome adversity, too: “During airstrikes last year, Eddie Chami ofMersel Winelost all power and electricity,” Bakshi says, “and he was making wine with a headlamp; he [even]documented it on video, and on one of his Instagram stories you could hear the drones in the background.” For more on how Lebanese winemakers are being affected by war, I’d very much recommendBakshi’s account for Wine Enthusiast,which details how, amid all the unpredictability, life goes on.

Château Oumsiyat Mijana£9.75 Waitrose, 13%. Intense, but not overpowering. Spicy and full, too.

Château Musar Jeune Rosé 2022£15.45 VINVM, 11.5%. Cinsault, syrah and tempranillo. Just as good with food as without.

Château Musar Jeune Red 2021£16.99 Virgin Wines, 13%. Approachably priced red Musar, unoaked and brimming with blue fruit.

Massaya White 2022£19 The Wine Society, 13%. A textured blend of sauvignon blanc, obeidi, clairette, rolle and chardonnay.

Tequila and lime play nicely with summer strawberries in this refreshing long drink

Here’s a little something to put a fresh spring in your step as we head into summer proper.

2 strawberries, hulled8 basil leaves, plus 1 sprig extra to garnish50ml tequila– blanco or reposado, it’s up to you25ml freshly squeezed lime juice10ml agave nectarGinger ale, to top

Put the strawberries and basil leaves in a shaker and muddle (ie, bash) to bruise and release their flavours. Pour in the tequila, lime juice and agave nectar, then add a big handful of ice and shake very well. Double-strain into a highball glass filled with fresh ice, top with ginger ale to add a refreshing fizz, garnish with the basil sprig and serve. (Alternatively, build the cocktail directly in the glass, by muddling the fruit and basil, adding the liquids and ice, stirring and topping with ginger ale.)

Glenn Gicquel, bar manager,Sucre, London W1

Few things in life are as simple and mouthwatering as tomatoes on toast sprinkled with salt, but here they hit new heights with olivey breadcrumbs, garlic and butter beans, too

My favourite breakfast is sliced tomatoes on rye bread sprinkled with sea salt. The best bit is neither the tomato flesh nor the bread, it’s the salted tomato water that runs down the back of my hands and threatens to meet my elbows. It’s liquid electricity and one of my favourite earthly flavours. It could make a great stock, or a delicious martini, perhaps even a marinade for ceviche, but here it’s thrown in at the end to refresh a dish of gently cooked tomatoes, beans and dill. Perfect for dunking anything but elbows into.

Ideally, you’ll need a food processor or blender for the pangrattato; if you don’t have one, tear the bread into small chunks, then toss with the olives, spread out on a chopping board and chop through a few times until you have a fine-ish crumb.

6-8 largeripe tomatoes(750g)Fine sea salt85g sourdough(ie 1 big slice), chopped, plus extra to serve30g pitted kalamata olives(about 8)Extra-virgin olive oil2 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed1 tsp ancho or aleppo chilli flakes2400g tins butter beans, drained and rinsed – I likeCirio25g dill, leaves picked to get 18g, roughly chopped

Grate the tomatoes into a bowl and discard the skins. Add half a teaspoon of salt, mix, then tip into a sieve and set over the empty bowl to catch the juice – don’t discard the juice.

Put the sourdough and pitted olives in a food processor and pulse to fine breadcrumbs. Put two tablespoons of extra-virgin olive oil in a pan on a medium heat and, when hot, add the bread and olive crumbs and cook, stirring often, for about 10 minutes, until dry and crumbly.

Put three tablespoons of olive oil in a large frying pan on a medium heat and, when hot, add the crushed garlic and the chilli flakes, and cook, stirring, for two minutes, until fragrant and light brown. Tip in the drained beans, the tomato pulp from the sieve and a half-teaspoon of salt, turn up the heat to high and cook, stirring every now and then, for 10 minutes.

Tip in the reserved tomato juice from the bowl and half the dill, and stir to combine. Tip everything out on to a lipped platter, scatter the breadcrumb mix on top and finish with the remaining dill. Drizzle liberally with more extra-virgin olive oil and serve with toasted sourdough to ladle the beans on top of.

I try to think of another detail from the weekend that will convince them of my presence, but absolutely nothing comes to mind

After a sometimes fraught four-hour car journey, my wife and I and three friends arrive at a remote, sea-facing house in Greece. I’ve been here once before, a couple of years ago, but my memory of the place is fragmentary. I’ve remembered, for example, that you can’t get the car anywhere near the house – you have to lug your stuff across a beach and over some rocks – and have packed accordingly. But the view from the top of the rocks still comes as a disheartening surprise.

“I forgot about the second beach,” I say, looking at the house in the distance.

“I didn’t,” my wife says. “Press on.”

As we trudge along the sand, I think: how could I not remember this? Along with my bag I am carrying my wife’s suitcase – whose wheels have never been less use – just as I did two years ago. It’s precisely the sort of personal hardship I pride myself on being able to relate in numbing detail.

Once we’re in the house my brain serves me no better: I’ve retained a memory of the layout, which turns out to be back-to-front. This will cause me to lose my way over and over again in the course of the coming week: seeking a terrace, I will end up on a balcony, and vice versa.

“It’s not that I don’t remember it,” I say to my wife the next morning. “It’s that I’m remembering it wrong.”

“Do you remember getting up in the middle of the night to stand in the cupboard?” she says.

“Yes, I do remember that,” I say. “And I wasn’t trying to stand in the cupboard, I just thought it was the bedroom door.”

A few days later more friends arrive. We have all been on holiday together many times before, in varying configurations, with and without children. These memories form the basis of a lot of the conversation.

One evening I walk into the kitchen where a few people are preparing supper. They’re talking about an Easter weekend in Dorset long ago, and laughing about egg-rolling in terrible weather.

“I was there,” I say. Everyone stops talking and turns to look at me.

“Were you?” says Mary, dubiously.

“Yeah,” I say. “The weather was bad, as you say, and we went egg-rolling.” I try to think of another detail from the weekend that will convince them of my presence, but absolutely nothing comes to mind. Maybe, I think, I wasn’t there. My wife walks in.

“What are we talking about?” she says.

“Easter in Dorset,” says Chiara.

“I remember that,” my wife says. “Egg-rolling in the rain.”

“When I said that, everybody looked at me as if I had dementia,” I say. Everybody looks at me again, in a way that makes me want to go and stand in a cupboard.

I recently read that to retrieve a memory is also, in some way, to rewrite it. Frequently recalled episodes are particularly fragile – the more you remember them, the more fictionalised they become. But to be honest, I’m not even sure I’m remembering this correctly.

The next day everyone spends the afternoon reading on the terrace. At some point I fall asleep. When I wake, my book is resting on my face, the sun has set, and I am alone.

I find everyone else in the kitchen, cooking. I open a beer and listen as my wife tells a story about a holiday in Portugal from 20 years ago. She is recounting the part about the hired van getting a flat tyre while going down a hill. This, at least, I remember.

“The tyre came right off the wheel and started rolling ahead of us,” she says. “We watched as it rolled all the way down, and halfway up the next hill, till it slowed and stopped. Then it started rolling back down towards us.”

“What?” she says. “Am I telling it wrong?”

“No, you’re being remarkably accurate,” I say. “Which is weird, because you weren’t there.”

“No, it was just me and him,” I say, pointing to a friend whom I’ll call Paul, because his real name is Piers.

“Yeah, it was just us,” says Paul.

“But I remember the wheel coming off,” she says. “I can see it.”

“It’s because he’s told you the story so many times,” says Paul.

“My memory has infiltrated your brain to become your memory,” I say.

“If you’ve got any more of mine,” I say, “I’d quite like them back.”

From Euphoria and Tattoo to Miniminter, KSI and Zeraa, test your knowledge with the Saturday quiz

1What was proposed as a basic taste by chemist Kikunae Ikeda in 1908?2At the centre of the Milky Way, what is Sagittarius A*?3Which Booker prize-winning novel has no named characters?4Miniminter, KSI and Zerkaa are members of which collective?5The helots were people subjugated by which city-state?6Which official censored British theatre until 1968?7Which sculpture stands by the A1 in Gateshead?8San Miguel beer and Tanduay, the world’s bestselling rum, come from where?What links:9Laputa; Nublar; Saint Marie; Skull; Sodor; Utopia?10Castellaneta; Kavner; Cartwright; Smith?11Frederick of Utrecht, 838; Thomas Becket, 1170; Óscar Romero, 1980?12Chairman of ways and means; first deputy; second deputy?13Dubris; Londinium; Verulamium; Venonis; Viroconium?14Euphoria and Tattoo; What’s Another Year and Hold Me Now?151858 medical textbook; Shonda Rhimes and Ellen Pompeo?

1Umami.2(Supermassive) black hole.3Milkman (Anna Burns).4The Sidemen (YouTube personalities).5Sparta.6Lord Chamberlain.7Angel of the North.8The Philippines.9Fictional islands: Gulliver’s Travels; Jurassic Park; Death in Paradise; King Kong; Thomas the Tank Engine; Thomas More book.10Voices of The Simpsons: Homer; Marge; Bart; Lisa.11Archbishops/bishops murdered in their cathedrals (and later canonised): the Netherlands; Canterbury; El Salvador.12Deputy speakers of the Commons: Nusrat Ghani, Judith Cummins, and Caroline Nokes.13Roman settlements linked by Watling Street: Dover; London; St Albans; High Cross; Wroxeter.14Songs by double Eurovision winners: Loreen and Johnny Logan.15Grey’s Anatomy: Gray’s Anatomy book; created TV series and played title character.

Worried that he didn’t understand the continent of his heritage, Femi Elufowoju Jr challenged himself to visit all 54 of its nations. His trip took him from bustling Ghana to the tranquility of Tanzania – and sparked the idea for a play

At 53, I made myself a promise. Having built a reputation as the go-to authority on African culture in UK theatre, I realised with uncomfortable clarity that my knowledge barely scratched the surface of the continent’s vast complexity. What followed was an extraordinary seven-year quest to visit all 54 African nations before my 60th birthday – a journey that would ultimately transform into my ambitious new theatrical project, 54.60Africa.

The catalyst came during a 2015 world tour with theatre company Complicité that took me to Cape Town. Standing in the shadow of Table Mountain, I confronted a paradox that had long troubled me: despite my Nigerian ancestry and theatrical expertise, my understanding of Africa remained frustratingly limited. Cape Town offered me an opportunity to begin addressing that knowledge gap, and one I was determined to seize.

The journey that followed defied every preconception I held. In a hotel lodge in Mbabane in what was then Swaziland, a receptionist’s eyes widened with incredulity at my arrival – a reaction that spoke volumes about the rarity of Black guests. Yet it was the gardener the next morning who provided the trip’s emotional core, abandoning his work to sit beside me, explaining how long it had been since he’d conversed with another “brother” on the premises beyond his own visiting family.

These encounters multiplied across 54 nations, each challenging global narratives of crime, instability and economic hardship that I had unconsciously accepted. Instead, I found peace in Ghana’s bustling districts, tranquility along Tanzania’s roads and avant garde modernity in airports across the continent; I was blown away by Mali’s Modibo Keita International. Even in Khartoum, months before civil war erupted, I stood on Mac Nimir Bridge absorbing the capital’s calm while admiring the translucent Blue Nile – a moment that would later haunt me as I processed how quickly human-made turbulence could create mass displacement.

The process of transforming my personal odyssey into a theatrical production began with a conversation. In 2007, I accompanied my friend Ivan Cutting on a research trip to Kenya for a production that never materialised. A decade later, when I mentioned writing a book about my travels, Ivan immediately suggested a play should follow.

What emerged at Omnibus theatre in south London, and later at the NationalTheatreStudio, was something far more complex than I had expected. Early workshops revealed a troubling tendency: the story centred on me rather than Africa. 54.60 Africa was completed on my 60th birthday – 31 October 2022 – in Bangui, Central African Republic – exhausted, but ecstatic and proud of the feat. This milestone intervened to shift the focus, transforming my production into an exploration of how Africa interrogated the African I claimed to be.

This realisation led to a crucial creative decision: representing my journey through 11 fictional characters rather than direct autobiography. Africa is more than one person, and I should never be bigger than our mighty continent. The fictional ensemble allowed me to convey collective experiences while platforming Africa as a source of progress, inspiration and immense dignity.

The production reunited me with performers from my previous collaborations, who brought not just talent but vast repositories of knowledge drawn from oral storytelling traditions. Ayo-Dele Edwards, the first Nigerian-descent female performer to infuse UK theatre with authentic Yoruba songs, joined Sierra Leonean animateurs Patrice Naiambana and Usifu Jalloh, whose contributions to UK arts education stretch back to the mid-90s.

For the music I turned to the Ganda Boys, Denis Mugagga and Daniel Sewagudde, who I discovered were instrumental in shaping London’s east African cultural movement. Their infectious compositions and melodious voices provided my production’s sonic backbone while their advocacy for social justice aligned perfectly with my mission.

54.60 Africa arrives at a crucial moment for African representation in British theatre. Despite nearly three decades passing since I established Tiata Fahodzi in 1997, authentic African voices remain marginalised on major commercial stages. While regional theatres increasingly listen to their communities, the West End continues to shy away from genuine African stories, preferring sanitised interpretations such as The Lion King over authentic narratives.

My central mission remains unchanged: debunking tropes associated with my continent. Through lighthearted dramatic construction accessible to all ages, 54.60 Africa offers audiences a fresh perspective on Africa’s true standards and incredible human endeavours, far removed from problematic western media narratives. In doing so, it challenges not just theatrical conventions but fundamental assumptions about a continent too often reduced to simplistic stereotypes.

54:60 Africa is at the Arcola theatre, London, to 12 July.

The Bee Keeper Women ofKitui, Kenya,2007 (main picture, above)

Meeting a bee-keeping group in a nearby village in the Kitui district of Nairobi. The villagers who manage colonies of honeybees to produce honey, beeswax and royal jelly are a particularly good example of the valiant low-income women who have contributed to the economy of their immediate rural community.

Meeting Samora Machel inMaputo, Mozambique, 2015

Samora Machel was the country’s first post-colonial and post-apartheid president, serving from 1975 until his tragic death in a plance crash 11 years later. This magnificent bronze statue is located in the centre of Praça da Independência in Maputo, the nation’s capital.

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Walking back from the Kigali Genocide Memorial commemorating the Tutsi people killed in 1994, I popped into a grocery store to pick up essentials for my trip back to Uganda. Sitting on monuments outside were these young boys who offered to help carry my shopping bags.

Overlooking the serenity of the Indian Ocean, Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania,2018

Lying on the sand on a line which marks the meeting point of British colonial Zanzibar and Dar es Salaam. Behind me, young parents with their children play on the beach. In front of me, fishers, trawlers and ferries float on the bay between Kigamboni and nearby Zanzibar Ferry Terminals.

Learning to play the Kora in Banjul, the Gambia,2018

A day trip to Selety, Senegal ends in Bakau Craft Market, Banjul, whereI receive my first lesson on a kora cello owned by master kora player Lamin Suso. I had always been fascinated with the kora, having been introduced to its finesse back in the UK by the celebrated Nigerian player Tunde Jegede. If there’s one thing I regret about school, it’s not mastering an instrument. Especially an African one.

Last Days inYaoundé, Cameroon,2022

On my last day in Yaoundé, I made the long trek along the entire length of Tribune Présidentielle du Boulevard du 20 Mai which ends by Rond-Point J’Aime Mon Pays le Cameroun (I Love My Country Cameroon Roundabout). Certainly the most beautiful roundabout in the city.

Like bar-hopping, but for browsing books: this trend, popularised on TikTok, makes for a great day out – and can help you discover unique literary spots

We’ve all heard of bar crawls, but what about a bookshop crawl? The premise is essentially the same – you hop from venue to venue – but instead of drinking beers you browse books. Having begun as a trend among TikTok users, mainly in the US, the idea has begun to be adopted across the globe.

There are a few “official” ways to try it out for your yourself:Bookshop Crawl UKorganises the London Bookshop Crawl, as well as crawls across the country,Bristol Walkfesthas organised a walking tour of the city’s numerous indies, and in April, theChicagoland Bookstore Crawlran an event for Independent Bookstore Day which rewarded participants who visited 10 shops on the day with 10% discount on books for the rest of the year. And theGlobal Book Crawlruns an annual event with 17 participating countries, from Ireland to Fiji.

But mostly, bookshop crawls are much more casual affairs, with groups of friends or individuals using them as a way to explore a city and find their new favourite bookish spot. In this spirit, on a recent trip to London, I decided to take myself on a solo crawl. First, I checked out New Beacon Books in Finsbury Park, which is the longest running Black-owned bookstore in the UK, then went to Camden Town Bookshop and Primrose Hill Books. I loved exploring different parts of London and was able to pick up not only newer books that were on my to-read list but also older editions of childhood favourites – such as Jacqueline Wilson’s The Illustrated Mum, which I picked up in an Oxfam in Bloomsbury for about £2. It felt like a real treat to spend a full day drinking iced coffee and browsing bookshops – and definitely something I’ll be doing in future when I visit a new city.

It was also helpful to have the specific goal of seeking out independent bookshops – so often when I’m looking to buy a book I just head to Waterstones or Foyles on autopilot. But indies can offer a sense of community and individuality that many of the big chains can’t, and are often beautiful, relaxing spaces to be in.

American TikTok influencerEden Yonassays she has had “the best time” doing bookshop crawls when visiting new places. They are “an amazing way to prioritise indie bookstores that you may not visit in your day-to-day life,” she says.

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Fleur Sinclair, owner of Sevenoaks Bookshop in Kent, and president of theBooksellersAssociation, says book crawls are a great way to “explore your local community and support local high streets” but also to find unique shops.

Independent bookshops “have handwritten reviews, an eclectic taste. We have the autonomy to have the books that we want to have, to celebrate what we want to celebrate and I hope that young people really love them and enjoy celebrating that individuality with all these book crawls,” she added.

The only drawback of doing a book crawl is that, tempted by so many amazing books on sale, “you can very quickly end up with more books than bookshelf space,” Bex Hughes, founder and executive director of Bookshop Crawl UK says. “Other than that, there are no downsides!”

“Oftentimes, the bookstores we go to are based solely on convenience,” Yonas says. “Putting aside the time on a weekend or a day off work to just say ‘here’s a list of places I’m going to check out, no matter how far or close’ is the best way to discover those hidden bookshop gems and give them the support that they deserve.”

Independent Bookshop Weekis run by the Booksellers Association and will take place from 14-21 June

In this week’s newsletter: Happy 20th birthday to the forum that reshaped fandom and is one of the internet’s most eccentric collaborative spaces

It only ended a few years ago, butWestworldalready feels a bit of a TV footnote. A pricey mid-2010s remake of a 70s Yul Brynner movie few people remembered, HBO’s robot cowboy drama lumbered on for four lukewarm seasons before getting cancelled – with few people really noticing.

Still, when it premiered,Westworldwas big news. Here was a show well-placed to do a Game of Thrones, only for sci-fi. Its high production values were married to an eye-catching cast (Evan Rachel Wood, Ed Harris, Thandiwe Newton, Jeffrey Wright) and it was run by the crack team of Lisa Joy and Jonathan Nolan, who promised they had a playbook for how the whole show would shake out. This, of course, was an important promise in that immediate post-Lost period, where everyone was terrified that they would be strung along by a show that was “making it up as they went along” (as a Lost defender, I have to say at this point that they weren’t “making it up as they went along”, but that’s an argument for another newsletter).

But even the best laid plans, and the most tightly plotted of TV shows, have a way of unravelling. The first inkling I had that Westworld might not be TV’s next big series was when fans of the show on forum/social media hybrid Reddit started correctly guessing how plotlines would pan out. Twist after twist in the show’s first season were predicted, sometimes a week early or more, by Redditors well-versed in the rhythms and tropes of telly, or otherwise just willing to go above and beyond in the search for the most minuscule of clues. Things got so bad that, in the second season, Joy and Nolan were forced torewrite the scriptto alter a plotline the Redditors had already rumbled. It was a sign not just of Westworld’s fragility, but the strength of Reddit and its users, who were able to make even seasoned showrunners quake in their boots.

Reddit has, of course, comfortably outlasted Westworld. This month, the site – immodestly self-described as “the front page of the internet” – celebrates its 20th birthday. It’s an anniversary that sits in the shadow of a more seismic 2005 web debut: YouTube, which celebrated its own birthday back in February. But Reddit’s impact on popular culture, though not at YouTube’s “we’ve replaced TV” levels, has been sizeable.

That Reddit’s arrival came in lockstep with an era of intense fandom and parasocial relationships doesn’t seem coincidental. Fan forums existed long before Reddit – from message boards for bands and solo artists to the acid-tipped TV show chat on thestill-missedTelevision Without Pity – but Reddit organised and supercharged these communities. Suddenly, just about any enthusiasm big or small, Marvel movies to musical microgenres, could be discussed under one roof, freely and openly.

Such freedom and openness come at a cost, and Reddit’s – misogyny, racism, conspiracy theories, threats of violence – have beenwidely documented. (Though, in contrast to so many social media platforms these days, Reddit has donea pretty decent jobin cleaning up its act over the past decade). Pop-culturally, it’s a place where fan enthusiasm can occasionally curdle into something more unpleasant (witness thelong and messy historyof the Rick and Morty subreddit).

But too often discussion around Reddit has zeroed in on its less salubrious aspects and overlooked what a remarkable space it can be. Supported by some truly heroic moderation, it is one of the last outposts for that old internet – hobbyist, collaborative, more than a little eccentric. Asthis Atlantic defenceputs it, Reddit is “simultaneously niche and expansive” – which means you can use it as superficially or deeply as you wish: whether you’re asking for a new TV recommendation, or getting detailed advice onbuilding a hurdy-gurdy. In a sense, it has mainstreamed obsessiveness. Where once these hyper-specific communities were hidden away from the wider world, now they’re accessible to anyone seeking them under one giant Reddit umbrella – almost 100 million people actively use the site every day.

I’m not really one of them. At best, I’m a Reddit lurker – never bold enough to properly dive in and post – but, as someone who writes about pop culture, I find it endlessly useful. It’s where I go if I want to get to the bottom of a puzzling Severance plot point on the show’sendlessly insightful subreddit, or discover a lost 70s paranoid thriller on the extremely usefulr/Movie Suggestions. And lord knows how many bands I’ve discovered on boards like the massiver/indieheads(3.6 million members and growing). Fittingly, when I last looked in on r/indieheads, I was greeted with users marking Brian Wilson’s death by discussing his influence on the chillwave genre (with the songAll I Wanna Do), exactly the sort of informed, spirited, geekish back and forth you’d hope for.

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That spirit seems to, for now, have held despite a stock market flotation that some justifiablyworried would ruin the site. Perhaps that fear will one day come to pass. Or maybe not. Maybe Reddit is too big, too singular, too defiantly peculiar to be blandified by big business. Let’s hope we’re still celebrating it in another 20 years’ time, as it topples another pedestrianly plotted TV show.

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Band’s ‘on the edge of kitsch’ aesthetic is still relevant three decades later as young people focus on vintage clothing

Thirty years ago this month Pulp played the Pyramid stage at Glastonbury and took their reputation to another level. If part of this was due to a storming set taking in their new hit Common People, debuts for their future hits Mis-Shapes and Disco 2000, and the star power of singerJarvis Cocker, it was also down to their look.

There was Steve Mackay, bass guitarist, in a fitted shirt and kipper tie, Russell Senior on violin in a blue safari shirt, keyboardist Candida Doyle in sequins and – of course – Cocker, in his now signature secondhand 70s tailoring.

Fast forward to 2025 and Pulp have their first album in 24 years,More, and a tour taking in the UK, Europe and the US. It is a moment that will put their music and their style back in the public eye.

While the bucket hats, parkas and round specs of Oasis, the otherBritpopband on tour this summer, are likely to dominate what young men are wearing, Pulp’s look is an alternative one that celebrates the secondhand.

As Cocker writes in his book Good Pop, Bad Pop, his first jumble-sale buy, a garish 70s shirt, was “the real beginning of the Pulp aesthetic”. Its pomp can be seen in videos such as for1993’s Babies– with Cocker topless in a flared suit, Mackay in another garish print and Doyle in mod-ish stripes.

The influence of Pulp’s look in the 90s was partly about the sugar high of its eclectic, graphic take on nostalgia but also its accessibility.

“[Other bands] had a secondhand look, but Pulp made it a little bit more colourful, not quite kitsch, but on the edge of kitsch,” says Miranda Sawyer, the author of the Britpop history Uncommon People.

Doyle says: “They obviously looked stylish but you did think, ‘OK I can get that stuff’. We were skint for a lot of the first 10 years being in Pulp. I used to find some amazing things [in charity shops].”

Three decades later, and secondhand shopping once again dominates the way young people dress. Peter Bevan, 30, a stylist and contributing editor of the Rakish Gent, says: “Everyone I know who’s my age or younger shops in charity shops, in vintage shops, Depop, Vinted. I don’t know many people that buy loads of new things any more.” Asurvey in 2023found that 64% of gen Z will look for an item secondhand before buying it new.

While part of this is likely down to cost and environmental concerns, the haphazard nature of secondhand shopping is championed as a way to express yourself through clothing. “Everyone who looks cool [now] is doing them rather than trying to do something else,” adds Bevan, who says this is why Pulp appeal. “Although obviously [Pulp] all made very considered choices that work together you can tell that they’re [each] dressing for them[selves] as well.”

James Millar, a 22-year-old guitarist in the band the Sukis, regularly shares videos of his Cocker-like looks to the band’s103.4k TikTok followers, and watched Pulp perform in Dublin this week. “[Cocker] is heavily influenced by 70s fashion … but he’s not doing 70s cosplay. When I see pictures of him, and what he wears, it just looks like him,” he says.

While Doyle bristles at being classed as a Britpop band – “we don’t associate with [it] because of the union jack,” she says – they will inevitably becompared with Oasis, with both bands touring this summer. Style-wise, Bevan says Pulp come out on top. “I like the Oasis look but [they were originally about a] counter-culture fashion moment. Now it feels like they’re meant to look like they’re not trying hard in a fashion way but in reality they are trying really hard to look cool. Pulp all have their own personal sense of style that goes way beyond throwing on a Stone Island windbreaker and a pair of jeans.”

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The fact that success eluded Pulp for a decade helped. “Me and Jarvis were in our 30s by the time we got big, we’d had a long life of knowing what we liked to wear,” says Doyle.

While other bands might have had stylists as standard, this was avoided in favour of wearing their own clothes, a principle that remains today. “I still have a very strong sense of what I like and what I really don’t like,” says Doyle.

“I make sure I wear something as bright as possible. I’ve got a new [outfit] that’s white, there are some sequins on it, and there are some tassels. It’s good with tassels, because when you move, it comes with you.”

She says clothes were even part of what helped form Pulp in the first place. “We all grew up in Sheffield, and if you dressed a bit strangely, you stood out. So we’d all congregate at the same venues,” she says, adding insight that sounds like a lost lyric from revenge of the nerds anthem, Mis-Shapes: “There’d be townies and weirdos, squares and students.”

Perhaps the enduring appeal of Pulp’s style is once again about the triumph of Mis-Shapes, with its lyrics of “misshapes, mistakes, misfits”, and how expressing your personality through the lucky dip of secondhand clothing is a win. “Jarvis understands his appeal,” says Sawyer. “He’s accentuating all the things that people have picked on him for. He’s saying, ‘I’m a tall weed or whatever you wanted to call me. This is who I am and, actually, I look great’.”