When I went along to audition for the job of the voice on M&S's "...Not Just Food" ads, I had terrible flu and depression, was feeling crap about everything, but when I read "tossed lovingly" and saw chocolate flow erotically over sponge, I burst out laughing. For the take which made them choose me, I had my eyes closed and was being very filthy. I wish I had all the recordings. I remember one in which I went off into a rant, asking: "Oh come on, who enjoys wine responsibly?"

When I was six we visited aunts on a farm in the [Irish] countryside. And in the middle of the dinner table was a huge cow's tongue. The sheer length! It was repulsive. I thought: "Sweet Jesus, must we eat this?" It brutalised me.

When I first dated my husband [actor Rupert Penry-Jones] he cooked a Valentine's meal at his apartment – with homemade blinis, caviar, salmon, champagne. Any old sod can buy chocs and flowers. But this was incredibly sweet, personal, private – and a week early. I thought: "That's it, I'll have a piece of him."

I'd never scan the starters and main courses on a menu in a restaurant as a child. I'd want a dessert for starter, for main course and for dessert. I've still got a fetish about them because they're so immediately comforting, yet forbidden, in this business where appearance is so important. Really I should be about 17 stone.

I love my juicer. I bring it on to film sets with a bag of fresh fruit and away I go. I mix in an avocado too, which sounds disgusting but isn't. Five hours' energy it gives me. My juicer goes everywhere. It's flown all over the world.

I was a waitress at a really rundown Italian restaurant in Dublin, for about a week, at 16. I thought it was going to be romantic – overhearing affairs and watching first-time couples all loved up. But instead I was just running about constantly.

I cocked up a beautiful lasagne for a dinner party while I was heavily pregnant. It looked perfect as I served it, with a lovely golden crispy top. But it was ice-cold inside. I'd switched the grill on instead of the oven. And I wept. I wept terribly. But I enjoyed pregnancy – it gave me the chance to eat whatever I wanted.

My mother was a woman of the 50s who had a family in the 70s while finding her political and feminist voice. She could make marvellous three-course meals after teaching all day but hated it. Because of that legacy, it took me a long time to realise the delights of the family table. My mother-in-law, who's an actress, showed me how crucial Sunday's meal is.

I ate ostrich. I'm not very proud of it. I was going through a very experimental period and probably during foot and mouth. It was exquisite, but I felt very guilty. I've never stolen food though. Well, not outside the home. But I've nicked my kids' Easter eggs from the larder. All four of them.