Poppy is still pulling her funny face.

‘Poppy, has something happened to the seafood?’

For today’s show, I’d sourced a special order of scallops and monkfish from the same supplier to legendary seafood restaurant J Sheekey. As we were wrapping up yesterday, Poppy and I resolved that the ice-packed delivery box ought to make better overnight storage than our clunky old refrigerator. The label guaranteed ‘Ocean Fresh for 24 hours from Delivery’. Now that we’re discussing it, I don’t see the box.

‘The ice melted,’ Poppy informs me. ‘Apparently, the cleaners did some sort of steam-cleaning last night. I don’t really know what happened. But when I got in this morning, there was stinky, rotten fishy water everywhere.’

‘Oh heck.’

‘I’ve bleached the entire room.’

‘Poppy, thank you.’

‘I had to throw it all into the big bin out the back.’

‘Right.’ It’s too late to order more seafood, and I’d rather not have to nip out to the Tesco on Dean Street in this weather. ‘Time for Plan B.’

‘What’s plan B?’ Poppy asks, with more excitement than it deserves.

‘We cobble together whatever ingredients we have to hand, whatever that might be, and then we wing it.’

The challenge – and by the look on Poppy’s face, she sees it too – is that our on-premise supplies are perilously low. We only came back to work from the holiday break last week. And recent cost-cutting has started to bite. Our purchase orders aren’t always approved. I don’t mind buying the odd bits here and there. But whoever heard of a cookery show without any ingredients?

That’s how it’s been since Titan landed on us late last year, with their no expense spent policy. On top of which, our diary has been cleared of all off-site filming commitments. Last year, we grilled sole with lemon and capers down in Hastings, cooked a lamb roast on a big spit in the Welsh countryside, trekked all the way to Scotland and made properly done haggis, mixed entrails and all. We barbequed organic free-range pork sausages and quinoa vegan burgers across London, everywhere from the Leyton Mills B&Q car park to Richmond Park. None of it was haute cuisine. But it was lovely to connect with people who were right there in front of me as I cooked, rather than having to picture them following me in a future time and a different space via whatever device they happen to be watching on. More often than not, our ratings improved slightly in the weeks we ventured out of our studio. When we returned on set last week, the first instruction we received was that all future out-of-house activities were suspended until further notice. Our marketing cupboard, once filled with nifty kitchen gadgets to give away, is empty and my inaugural recipe book is on hold.