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Another story linking vitamin D deficiencies to all sorts of medical conditions, this time in babies and young children: Call for Vitamin D infant death probe. It says “Vitamin D is actually a hormone” – is it? Or a hormone precursor? It is closely involved in the regulation of calcium in the body, which accounts for the bone effects, but what else does calcium do? My exceptionally rusty undergraduate physiology is now 15 years old and fading fast.

I’m going to be eating more oily fish, eggs and dairy, and running around in the sunshine a bit more. I’m still curious as to whether synthetic vitamin D, as found in fortified cereals, is the same as vitamin D found in food. Which is more effective, or is there no difference?

Another day, another story about the risks of vitamin D deficiency, this time on the BBC – Experts Review Vitamin D Advice. I have a suspicion, not backed up by science, that vitamin D will turn out to be the most important micronutrient in out diet. As well as the proven link to rickets, researchers are also investigating links to some cancers, heart disease, multiple sclerosis and depression.

I think it’s significant that Jack Drummond, the architect of the wartime rationing diet, started his career researching fat-soluble vitamins, of which vitamin D is one. When he was designing the diet, he included big dollops of cod liver oil, especially for children, pregnant women and nursing mothers. He was also a great fan of fortifying flour and margarine with vitamins, as not everyone could get their hands on fresh eggs, fish or fish oils. People came out of the war much better nourished than they had been when they went into it, if a little bored of the fare.

Today, I suspect most people get their dietary vitamin D from fortified breakfast cereals, spreads and such like. Why, then, is one in four toddlers vitamin D deficient? Is it because they don’t play outside, or are slathered in SPF50 when they do? Or perhaps the synthetic vitamin D used in fortification isn’t as good as the naturally occurring stuff?

Here it is, cooked figs and all. Having done it, I realise there is a step where the duck is cooked but the figs are still raw, as they are added towards the end of cooking. The photo on the front of the book might be correct.

Am I the only person in the entire world who thinks this is remotely interesting?

There were ducks in the market today, so we bought one and I turned to At Elizabeth David’s Table for the duck with figs recipe. My husband pointed out (as apparently a reviewer did at the time) that the photograph of this dish on the cover of the book shows raw figs, not cooked ones, though the duck is cooked. How she would have hated that.

I trundled off this afternoon to find said figs. We are blessed with an extraordinary good corner shop that sells all the usual things (newspapers, sweets, Jacob’s Creek) but also, miraculously, things like quinces and pomegranates. However, there were no figs, because, as the man helpfully pointed out, they are out of season. I love him even more for that.

So I trundled a little bit further to the fruit stall on Portobello Road where there are no seasons. The figs are now marinating in half a bottle of Monbazillac, a Christmas leftover, and I will see if I can make a better fist of the finished arrangement than the book’s hapless food stylist.

I rang the Inland Revenue today to tell them I am officially back at work now my maternity leave has ended. However, I spend most of the day thinking about sausages. I got an email this morning asking me to vote for my favourite sausage – the Love Your Local Sausage campaign run by Jellied Eel magazine.

Now I don’t wish to be difficult, but there are a few chilli and paprika-laced sausages in there, along with an Italian sausage. The definition of ‘local’ is within 100 miles of London. By my estimate, you could draw an arc from Southampton up to Bristol, through Birmingham and round to the Wash and most places south-east of this would be local (and parts of northern France, incidentally). Even with such a generous definition, I can’t really see how Spanish or Italian-inspired flavourings count. I understand that they have to be produced within 100 miles of London to qualify, but this seems to me to be dodgy too. You could build a Spam factory in Tuscany but it wouldn’t make Spam a local Tuscan speciality (I imagine).

So what are the traditional, local, British sausages? I can think of Cumberland and Lincolnshire off the top of my head – what else? Would you be able to tell the difference between them in a blind tasting? Are their recipes defined anywhere – which particular combination of herbs and spices should go into each? I must find out.

It made me think of how much more rigid the French and Italians are in defining their cuisines. Recently I was in a creperie and, feeling in a fully Breton mood, I ordered some cider to go with my galette. The waitress (not French) asked me if I would like ice with it, and the (French) chef practically flew out of the kitchen to tell her off – no, no, no, never ice with cider, not ever. Even if I had wanted ice with my cider, that was irrelevant: you do not have ice with cider, and that is that. They have such confidence that the best way has been found, and it admits no other possibilities.

Perhaps British sausage makers need a bit of that confidence. We don’t need paprika or white wine in our sausages, good though they are in their place. We need a recognisably British sausage, or several distinct regional sausages, with broadly agreed characteristics, and then we could set about finding the best example of each.