It was the Booths Annual Tasting on Thursday and to say I was excited would be both an understatement and a bit of an embarrassment, but excited I was because I love Booths more than life itself.
Both sides of my family come from the land of Booths - Cumbria and Yorkshire - and all of them (apart from me and my brother, who lives an exotic and intelligent life in Silicon Valley compared to my booze-soaked situation on the South coast) still live in the North. Quite frankly, Booths is as much of a reason to move North as they are.
Booths is frequently, and lazily, described in the press as ‘the Waitrose of the North’ - something I learnt (and I don’t blame them) pisses them off. For a start, how would Waitrose like to be called the Booths of the South? (Possibly quite a lot…) They have more in common with Waitrose than, say, a car showroom or a branch of Waterstones, but that’s about it. But be fair to the journalists, Booths is more Waitrose than [insert mainstream/low cost supermarke…
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