Every time I come off the stage, I always have a slice and chips and a cup of tea. I call it a slice and chips because I’m Scottish. So basically that’s a chip sandwich for your readers. Two slices of bread, proper butter – bad butter won’t do – and a packet of chips and I shove it down. I eat that everywhere except when we’re in France. Then we have baguettes. Because that’s when you get the good stuff.

Someone who are good at what they do is incredibly sexy. When I met my husband (chef Bryn Williams), it wasn’t that he was a chef, it was that he loved what he did. And loves what he does. That focus and his thing (means) that he understands what it means to me when I say, “That’s all it is: writing a song or making my music.” That was appealing to me.

Everyone in my family cooks; it just carried on from generation to generation. One of my grandmothers was French and the other was Irish, so it was all about food and sitting down at a table. And both sets of grandparents were like, “If you don’t try it, you can’t have an opinion about it.” It sounds silly, but it really shaped my life: I’m not going to have an opinion about something if I don’t know anything about it.

My mother’s father had an allotment inside the bowling greenopposite my grandparents’ house. We grew peas, beans, cabbage and potatoes – it was a real adventure for children. And we had lunch there: me, my sister and my cousin Mark, who is also in the music industry. It’s really funny that two of the three of us became songwriters because there was a bus stop behind the gate and we were eating a sandwich and my grandfather said, “OK, tell me this person’s story.” So we always had to take turns looking at someone and telling a story about the person or their goal.

Bryn and I have a garden in Wales that supplies our restaurants with fruit and vegetables. We have a gardener, Gareth, who looks after it, but we go there when we can and I absolutely love it. We were there a few weeks ago and we kept finding these Rogue potatoes, the seedlings that have tried to reseed themselves from last year’s potatoes. So you find them in abundance and, I kid you not, I feel like David Attenborough or an archaeologist. They are gold nuggets: honestly, they taste so good. I told my brother-in-law about them and he said, “Yeah, that’s because you don’t have to do it every day.” And I said, “The story of my life, mate!”

A fixed menu Is my idea of ​​hell, mainly because I don’t like lamb or pork. Pork tastes like cigarette smoke to me. And lamb… I’m married to a Welshman, so it’s a scandal in our house, but lamb tastes like bad breath to me. It’s so sharp and strong that I think, “Oh my God, yuck, no.”

There are many similarities between what Bryn and I do: There’s prep and then it’s showtime. Prep is like a sound check, there’s a minute where you can walk in and say, “Oh, what are you doing?” But showtime, when you walk into a kitchen, when there are customers in the restaurant, it’s like, “Get out of my way, I’m coming through!”

My favorite things

Eat
Probably Indian, and there’s a little shop in Euston that does takeaway samosa chaats that can’t be beat. When I get to North Wales on the train I buy two of them to eat with my husband for dinner.

Drink
I love a glass of milk. There’s a little farm down the road from us in North Wales where they literally milk the cows, so the milk isn’t homogenised and they put the money in a little trust fund. It’s the best milk you’ve ever tasted in your life.

Place to eat
Roti Chai at Selfridges in London is incredible. They have Indian street food: sit upstairs, not downstairs, and get the Pani Puri.

Dish to prepare
I love making big pots of chicken, garlic, onions, peppers and tomatoes, cooking everything slowly and adding a whole tub of mascarpone at the end.

The Very Best of Texas UK tour begins on September 5. Tickets are available at texas.uk.com/live