…is a food writer, critic and chef. He’s written and edited a number of award-winning cookery books. His latest, Let’s Eat Meat, is published this week. He lives in London with his wife and two children.
What are you working on?
Still eating, writing, eating, writing. I’m off to Australia soon and working on a pitch for my next book.

When are you at your happiest?
At home, on a Friday night, the children in bed, wife at my side, something bubbling upon the hob, glass of good red in hand, and a new series of Veep to gorge on.

What is your greatest fear?
Anything happening to my children.

What is your earliest memory?
Waiting at some military airport for my father to arrive back from, what was then, Rhodesia. He’d been out there for a year helping the handover to Mugabe. I tried to stroke one of the police Alsatians. But a frightfully stern lady, with hard-lacquered blonde hair and clipped, ringing tones, told me to be careful, that they would bite my hand off. I jumped back. It was Lady Thatcher.

What do you most dislike about yourself?
I’m prone to indolence and sybaritic ways. Am foul-tempered in the mornings. Still don’t understand matters financial. A propensity to bang on and on about food. Greed. Gluttony. A tendency to exaggerate. The list goes on and on…

Who has been your greatest influence?
My family, dead and alive, have been hugely important. Obviously. Plus food writers from Nigel Slater and Matthew Fort to AJ Liebling, MFK Fisher and Calvin Trillin.

What is your most treasured possession?
I should say something abstract like my health or happiness. But probably a signed first-edition. Jane Grigson’s English Food, maybe.

What trait do you most deplore in others?
Bad manners. And meanness. I don’t care if you put your elbows on the table. But ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ are of vital importance.

What do you most dislike about your appearance?
So much to choose from, a veritable embarrassment of riches. Ever-expanding gut, ever-thinning hair, over-rubbery face.

What is your favourite book?
Lolita. Or A Confederacy Of Dunces.

What is your favourite film?
The Wicker Man (the original, Director’s Cut, not that godawful Nicolas Cage remake).

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Your favourite piece of music?

Can’t Find My Way Home (live version) by Blind Faith.

What is your favourite meal?
Usually the one I’m eating at that moment. But a great pile of proper caviar. That, or roast chicken, good thick gravy, peas and roast potatoes. Oh, and bread sauce.

Who would you most like to come to dinner?
My wife and friends. If I invited someone like Gandhi or Mother Teresa, we’d all have to behave.

What is the nastiest thing anyone has ever said to you?
Growing up with a well-known mother, there’s nothing that could offend me. Nothing. It’s all been said. Sticks and stones etc.

Do you believe in aliens?
No. But I do believe that mankind doesn’t know everything. There’s not a scientific or empirical answer for everything. I like the idea of the paranormal and supernatural, even if I can’t believe in it wholeheartedly.

What is your secret vice?
Processed cheese slices, the cheap corner-shop versions, but I don’t attempt to hide it. That, and Dr Pepper and Mr Freeze Jumbo Ice Pops.

Do you write thank-you notes?
I try (which means I should write more).

Which phrase do you most overuse?
‘Is service included?’

What single thing would improve the quality of your life?
I don’t want to sound too smug, but I’m pretty happy as I am.

Tell us one thing people might not know about you.
I despise goat’s cheese. I can eat anything else, from bugs to raw tripe. But goat’s cheese. Ugh!

What would you like your epitaph to read?
Thank you.

Let’s Eat Meat by Tom Parker Bowles is published by Pavilion Books, priced £25.