Water, wine, and scented candles: my essential guide to the non-essentials you need right now
Police in Warrington, revelling in their new powers to summons people for offences relating to the new coronavirus legislation, have posted proudly on Twitter about their latest accomplishments. Summoning up all the Gestapo-like spirit they could muster, they announced that they had fingered “multiple people from the same household going to the shops for non-essential items”.
This comment has solicited a storm of questions from the poor residents of Warrington, all of whom are wondering what exactly is an essential item? Must the nation wait with bated breath for the Prime Minister to issue another hoarse but stoic video from his Downing Street bunker? Are we now to be subjected to taste-policing by some ghastly government quango?
We need clarity – and what better person to offer guidance on this than myself?
As a man of the people, the Telegraph restaurant critic and a judge on MasterChef, I reckon my list of essential items will offer both clarity to the nation and focus for the coppers of Warrington.
Water
More than ever we must be quenched and hydrated at all times. How different it was when I was at school and, a wrong-headed and foolish boy, I only drank water when I was thirsty. Since tap water tastes horrible, I need regular deliveries of Acqua Panna. Bottled from springs in the Apennine mountains of Tuscany, it has a smoothness to sate me until just after Boris’s daily conference, at which point I’m impelled to start drinking.
Wine
Like most resilient Brits, I hold back from the first sip of the evening until the Downing Street press conference is over, at which point I reach for a glass of white Burgundy. While a soft and floral Puligny-Montrachet from Waitrose is preferable, I can slum it with a bottle of Macon Uchizy from Justerini and Brooks, and, with its screw cap, can be delivered from fridge to face in about five seconds.
Mustard
I couldn’t face any crisis without a large jar of Maille Dijon to hand. A large dollop brings a reassuringly French quality to everything, from sausages and chicken, to roast lamb and an omelette.
Snacks
As I don’t possess any worry beads, as I sip my white Burgundy I need to keep my fingers occupied with a large bowl of pistachio nuts. The extracting of the nuts from the shells is good exercise for the fingers, and really the pistachios should be those grown on the Sicilian volcanic soil of Bronte, for added plumpness and purple skin.
Flowers
How could one’s home not have a few pots of hyacinths as, rousing themselves from months of dormant rest, they pop through the surface of the soil and freshen the eye with their pink, white and blue flowers and sweet smell of spring? Honestly, officer, have a sniff and take off those cuffs.
Coffee
I refuse to regress to the dark ages when I might simply offer someone, or indeed myself, a cup of coffee. It would be like suggesting a gin and tonic without specifying whether it was a Sipsmith, a Hepple or a Warner’s with a Fever Tree, Double Dutch or London Essence. So is it a Ristretto Italiano, a Firenze Arpeggio or, indeed, a Vivalto Lungo Decaffeinato? My Nespresso capsules, the comforting habit of popping them into the machine and its blissful whirring noise, is as essential as my Davines Ol hair conditioner, VO5 hair styling wax, Dior Eau Sauvage after shave, not to mention Philip Diamond clean electric toothbrush and a tube of Mentadent P toothpaste.
Art
I mean, locked in the house for weeks at an end my eye is tiring at seeing the same old JMW Turners, Joshua Reynolds and van Dycks. But if the auction houses and galleries are shut – such heathen oppression – at least I could move and re-hang the collection. So that means an emergency trip to the shops for a pencil, hammer, tape measure, rawlplugs, stainless steel screws and a spirit level.
Ironing water
Like so many suffering the lockdown, I am reaching deep for my inner Jacob Rees-Mogg and refusing to let standards slip. That means a freshly ironed shirt in the morning. But now that I’ve worked out how to switch the iron on and use that fun button which emits a huge cloud of steam, what are these brown stains destroying my Turnbull & Assers? Let me through, officer, I need a bottle of distilled and scented ironing water.
Chocolate
Come June, if we’re all still in lockdown, we’ll have exhausted all interests in bread-making and knitting, our gardens will be immaculate and the tools in our sheds photographed and digitally catalogued. But one human desire will never be sated – our need for chocolate. And not any old chocolate. Forget the tangy after-taste of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk and the cheap shot of a Ferrero Rocher. I must have Booja-Booja: a miraculous, vegan and dairy-free truffle for which I’d sooner be shamed and put in stocks than miss my daily fix.
Scented candles
We have travelled too far. There is no going back. Try telling your kids there was once a world without Jo Malone. M’lord, you light my pomegranate and fig scented candle and try telling me it’s not essential.
See also: The 12 best scented candles
