Cooking was not something I grew up having a passion to do. The ‘cooking’ was very much developed and owned if you like, by my late Mum, a woman who never needed the instrument of measure, she was someone who just knew how much, what went where and in what order, and through this knowledge could produce something fantastic.
Being in the kitchen, preparing and organising, cooking was never something I necessarily liked or appreciated. Watching someone measure, cut, boil and fry did not phase or interest me if I have to be honest.
As I got older, cooking became a somewhat necessity and an ever-evolving desire, to eat well and feed others. I now love being in the kitchen; it is my space and my passion.
It wasn’t until my mum died that I perhaps felt I had a mission, and that mission was cooking. Whether this was true and I am sure it was perhaps not, that was my aim.
And now I can gladly say cooking is not a chore, not a hate, but a true love, a love that will hopefully never fade. Food is to be loved, never sacrificed, never waned and certainly never ignored. Food is the essence and the essential hub of my home.
When I get a cold, I truly dread not being able to taste food. Without taste, there is no love for it.
I don’t have a favourite meal or delight. It is a decision based entirely on inspiration for the day, week, episode, memory and desire.
So let’s celebrate food, it exists for us to eat it, so let’s enjoy the journey.