The best gift for a grandad who says he has everything is something to do rather than something to own. Give him a project that ends in bacon, a bottle or a jar with his name on it, and the "honestly, I don't need anything" problem quietly solves itself, because he is not being handed another object, he is being handed an afternoon and a result.
That is the theory, and it is a sound one. In practice it still takes a little thought, because a project can just as easily become a box that sits in the shed until March. So here is how we think it through: why the everything-grandad is genuinely hard to buy for, what actually lands with him, three making kits that suit the brief, and a few non-kit ideas that work on exactly the same principle.
Why is grandad so hard to buy for?
Three things are usually going on at once. The first is arithmetic. He has had decades to acquire the things he wanted, and anything he still wants he tends to buy the week he decides he wants it, without waiting for December. The second is space. A lot of grandads have reached the stage of life where the house is being gently emptied rather than filled, and a new ornament arrives with a faint air of obligation. The third is taste. He knows exactly which mug, which chair and which brand of marmalade, and a well-meaning substitute is worse than nothing.
Notice that none of those objections apply to something consumable, something personal, or something that asks for his opinion. That is the gap to aim at.
What actually lands with someone who has everything?
Over the years we have noticed that the gifts that go down best with the difficult-to-buy-for share a few traits:
- It gets used up. Nothing to dust, nothing to store, no guilt if he decides it was not for him after all.
- It needs him. A gift that only works if he brings his judgement, his timing or his hands is a compliment, not a chore.
- It produces something to hand out. Grandads are, as a rule, givers. A gift that turns into six bottles or a tub of something to press on visitors is a gift that keeps paying him back.
- It comes with a story. "I cured this" is a better sentence than "I bought this", and he will say it every single time.
- It fits the pace he actually keeps. An afternoon in the kitchen, not a fortnight of homework.
Which making kits suit a grandad?
Three of ours fit the brief particularly well, for quite different sorts of grandad.
For the one with strong views about bacon. Our bacon making kit dry cures a piece of pork belly with a traditional cure and flavours it three ways: chilli and garlic, juniper and fennel, or pancetta. Dry curing is the point of difference here. Most supermarket bacon is wet cured and pumped with water, which is why it leaks and shrinks in the pan. His will be firmer, more strongly flavoured and will crisp rather than boil. It also involves a properly satisfying bit of kitchen theatre: the belly is rubbed with cure, rested in the fridge, rinsed, then hung to air dry from the top shelf so it dangles into the space where the tall bottles usually live. When it comes out, it is firm enough to slice cleanly with a sharp kitchen knife. Even the trimmed skin has a job: cut it into pieces, toss with salt and a splash of vinegar and roast it on a rack for pork scratchings to eat while the rest cures.
For the one with a garden, a hedge and time. A hedgerow wine making kit turns fruit he picks into country wine, with a recipe table covering blackberry, elderberry, apple, plum, rhubarb and plenty more. One batch is a gallon, roughly six bottles, and it takes eight to twelve weeks from fruit to glass, most of which is patient waiting rather than work. For a grandad who already prunes, picks and notices when the blackberries are ready, it is less a gift than a promotion.
For the one who snacks and shares. A biltong making kit makes the South African dried beef: lean beef marinated in cider vinegar with coriander, black pepper and Himalayan salt, then dried until it bends without snapping. Our simplified oven method gets there in a couple of hours rather than days, and the kit makes two 500g batches, so he can dry the first one softer and the second one firmer once he has decided which he prefers. Dried properly and kept in an airtight container it keeps for a couple of weeks, though in our experience it never gets the chance.
All three are hand-packed in Britain, and all three need one fresh ingredient he buys himself, which is worth knowing when you wrap them.
What else works if a kit is not his thing?
The same principle, applied elsewhere:
- Sharpen his knives, properly. A decent sharpening stone plus an afternoon of the two of you working through the kitchen drawer. The gift is half tool, half company.
- Old photographs, printed. Scanning a shoebox of negatives and turning them into one good album is a present nobody buys themselves and everybody keeps.
- A standing date in the diary. The first Sunday of every month, a walk and a pub lunch, written down so it actually happens.
- The specific thing he mentions. The sweets from his childhood, the newspaper he grew up with, the record he keeps saying he lost. Specific beats expensive every time.
How do you stop it sitting in a cupboard?
This is the part most gift guides skip. A making kit becomes a lovely afternoon or an unopened box depending entirely on what happens in the first fortnight, so give it a nudge.
Buy the fresh ingredient at the same time, or promise it: the pork belly, the bottle of vodka, the beef. Suggest a date rather than a vague "whenever you fancy it". Better still, offer to do the first batch with him, which turns a present into an afternoon together and quietly solves the "what shall we do" problem of a winter Sunday. And then, crucially, ask about the results. Nothing sustains a new hobby like an audience.
Gifts for grandad FAQs
What do you buy a grandad who genuinely wants nothing?
Something consumable or something to do, rather than something to keep. A kit, an ingredient, an outing or a task you do together all sidestep the clutter objection entirely.
Are making kits too fiddly for an older beginner?
No. Our kits are written for complete beginners, with printed step-by-step booklets, and they need only ordinary kitchen equipment plus one fresh ingredient. If anything, patience is the main skill, which is not usually in short supply.
Which kit is the easiest first one?
The biltong kit, because the whole thing happens in an afternoon and you can see how it is going the entire time. Bacon takes several days of curing and air drying, and wine takes eight to twelve weeks.
Can I send a kit straight to him?
Yes. Enter his address as the delivery address at checkout and it goes directly to him, and UK delivery is free over 15 pounds.
Is home-cured bacon actually safe to make at home?
Yes, when the cure quantities and timings in the booklet are followed, the pork is fresh, it stays refrigerated throughout and it is cooked before eating. The cure is what preserves the meat, so it should never be reduced.
Browse our gift kits for more presents that arrive with something to do.
