The first meal I had at home after I got back from China was beans on toast. That’s dreadfully British of me, and I’m almost embarrassed to admit it, but the stomach wants what the stomach wants.

We stayed at a swanky hotel in Shanghai that actually had beans as part of its breakfast buffet offering, but I thought that I shouldn’t have flown all that way to eat something from home, so I had German sausage and mustard instead.

I should have gone for the beans really, because they would have been the most extravagantly expensive beans I’ve ever eaten. As if it’s not bad enough that they cost over £1 a tin these days. I’m old enough to remember the beans price wars of the mid-2000s when Aldi was chucking them out the door at 7p a piece.

I do have other exotic but basic go to comfort foods, I should add – I love a bit of Korean gyeran bap, which is a fried egg on boiled rice, or Italian aglio e olio, which is spaghetti with garlic and olive oil.

And in actual fact a lot of Brits would weep at what I do to my beans – I add crispy onion bits, lots of paprika, a teaspoon of pickled garlic, a drop of sriracha and a dollop of barbecue sauce and let it all simmer for a few minutes while I toast a bit of sourdough. Yikes, I’ve just this moment realised that I’ve only gone and gentrified my own thing.