Have I been bought?

Is it unethical to review a restaurant where you've dined for free? And this week's recipe is a favourite and perfect for the waning days of summer when wonderful fresh figs are in season.

Hello! Thanks so much for joining me here at Pen and Spoon. This week’s newsletter is free - the next one will be for paid subscribers only. If you like what you read in this newsletter, I’d be grateful if you could share the post and spread the word about Pen and Spoon. Even better, if it’s within your means, would you consider a paid subscription? For a little over £4 per month, you’ll receive a thoroughly researched weekly essay that gives you a glimpse behind the scenes of food writing and food media. Plus you’ll receive at least one weekly recipe, full access to my archive and other extras. Free subscribers receive an essay and recipe every other week. Importantly, the financial support of subscribers means I can afford to keep Pen and Spoon afloat. Warm wishes.

Photo by Kira auf der Heide on Unsplash

How’s your weekend going? Let me tell you how I spent one of mine recently. My husband and I enjoyed two nights at a 5* hotel in the English countryside, complete with hot-tub on our private terrace, use of spa facilities, plus an excellent four-course meal at a Michelin starred restaurant. There might have been afternoon tea served to us on the hotel lawn, too. So far so conceited, you say? Wait until I tell you the whole weekend was a gift. Let me explain.

Like many journalists who cover specific industries, I’m sometimes sent food-related samples or invitations; it might be a new cookbook from a publisher, something to try from a food producer, or a free meal at a new restaurant or one that has a new chef or menu. I’m privileged to be in this position and writers with large social media followings (I’m not one of them) are inundated with this type of thing. But receiving free stuff has always made me feel uncomfortable; are they really samples or are they actually inducements? Was my weekend away - an unusually lavish gifted trip - a way to learn about a chef and a restaurant that I wouldn’t otherwise know about? Or simply a payment in exchange for positive publicity?

I’m a journalist and there are pretty clear rules about this: I should be impartial in my reporting, and that means not being paid or persuaded with freebies to write about people, products or services. In the words of the travel editor of the New York Times, which forbids writers from accepting anything from the industries they cover, “we believe that taking a comp casts a shadow across the work — how can the reader, who is really the important person here, be sure that the view is not coloured by the freebie?”

It's hard to disagree with this in principle, but it isn’t quite that simple in practice. Restaurant critics for national newspapers and magazines don’t review on the basis of free meals (none of the good critics do, anyway) - they’re paid by their publication for their work and reimbursed by that organisation for the cost of their meals. But it’s different for freelancers like I am - and magazines and newspapers are filled with our work these days - because we don’t have general expenses covered (except in specific instances). So, I have to accept ‘freebies’ to do my job. Let me give you some examples.

I write a magazine column in which (among other things) I like to bring readers’ attention to good books about food and health. I rely on publishers to send me these, firstly, so I know they exist in the first place, and secondly so I can review them. I can’t afford to buy all the books published on this topic even if I knew about them, so if I didn't accept free books, I couldn’t write about them. But can my review be completely subjective?

Being au fait with food trends, new food products and food producers is also vital to my job, so I accept free ‘samples’. These often arrive unsolicited in the post or by courier (my address is available in directories that publicists pay to access). Generally, there’s no pressure to write about these goodies. If I feel they’re amazing and worth shouting about, and I think the producer (or author) deserves as wide an audience as possible, I’ll post about it on social media (with a hashtag like #gift #sample or #promotion) and/or mention it in an article if it’s relevant. But have I been ‘bought’ with a freebie?

Invitations to restaurants, to my mind, are trickier. It is important for me to know what’s going on in the restaurant world, what chefs are cooking, how they’re doing it, and what’s popular on menus - this is informs the articles I write. I can’t afford to eat out very often and publications don’t pay me to do it, so I accept some of these invitations when I can. But I’m aware that this arrangement is transactional. It’s not demanded but it is expected that if you attend the opening of a new restaurant, you’ll post about it on social media.

If the food and the experience is good, most food writers are happy to spread the word, but there’s lots of self interest involved. Putting that Instagenic image of a crab omelette on your grid not only supports the chef who made it, but it tells your audience that you’re a food world insider, among the first to try new and fashionable places and therefore worth following on social media. I admit to doing it. It’s the unspoken trade-off when accepting a free meal and booze - and a fun evening with industry pals. I doubt very much that including #guest or #invite on your Instagram hashtags (something I always try to remember to do) truthfully conveys the extent to which the post was effectively paid for. (Most food critics attached to specific publications don’t attend these types of media events).

So what of my weekend away and the Michelin starred restaurant that was the highlight of our stay? I haven’t posted about it yet on Instagram because, to be honest, the lighting wasn’t great and the photographs I took were awful. I also confess to being embarrassed about accepting the gift - and let’s call it that - in the first place.

I only accepted the invitation on the basis that I wasn’t obligated to write or post anything about it. But the restaurant serves gorgeous, flawless food and deserves to be better known. I might seek the chef’s expert input for a future article. Or I still might post about it on Instagram. But if I do, will it be, effectively, an advert? I’m pretty sure the answer is yes. But it’s something I’m still considering. I’d love to know what you think.

---

I’m in Los Angeles at the moment with family and I spent this morning at Santa Monica Farmers’ Market where the produce is probably better than any other food market I’ve ever been to, anywhere. LA chefs flock here to buy direct from local growers and to source from the largest array of certified-organic produce of any market in the city (and that’s saying something). There’s not only abundance and a mind-blowing variety of each fruit or vegetables, including tomatoes, leafy greens, citrus (in season), stone fruit, berries, root vegetables and FIGS! But it’s the quality and flavour that’s unbeatable.

I bought some Brown Turkey and i’ve honestly never tasted anything like them; sticky, jammy and full of flavour. These are best eaten just as they are; honestly it would be a crime to do anything else to them, apart from maybe serve them with a salad or cheese, for example. The specimens available in other parts of the world - like the UK - often need a bit of help. See below.

Baked figs with halloumi, prosciutto and basil 

Serve these as a gorgeous starter with a few bitter salad leaves, or a decadent bite to enjoy with a glass of something cold beforehand. I promise you’ll never look back. From my book Foolproof Roasting Tray (previously called Roasting Tray Magic.

Makes: 12 

Takes: 15 minutes 

180g halloumi 

6 large ripe figs, halved lengthways 

12 large basil leaves 

1 tablespoon of runny honey, or more to taste (optional) 

1. Preheat the oven to 200C.  Cut the halloumi into six 5mm slices, and then cut each slice in half to make twelve small rectangles. 

2. Fold a basil leaf in half, place it on the cut side of a fig half and top with a piece of halloumi. Wrap in a piece of prosciutto and transfer to the 20 x 30cm roasting tray. Repeat.  

3. Drizzle with olive oil and roast for 10 minutes, or until the prosciutto is starting to crisp up and the halloumi is hot. Serve immediately, drizzled with honey (if using).