Welcome to my blog

At this time of year, I think of everyone working in retail and hospitality. I was one of them for most of my life. The pressure to go the extra mile is real, especially when you are already stretched thin. This year feels different.

Our ideas of what is normal to eat begin at home. They stretch and shift as we venture further into the world, gathering influences from friends, cultures, travel, and the happenstance of what we’re offered.

Some days, the kitchen feels like the only place that makes sense. A space where you actually touch the world instead of scrolling past it. Cooking feels so much better than watching cooking.

Traditions don’t enter into the world fully formed. They start as a good idea at the time. You gather a few people, raise a glass to something worth celebrating and somewhere between the food, the laughter and the decision to do it again next month/year/season, a tradition quietly slips into existence.

I never used to cook a lot of seafood at home. I didn’t need to; if I wanted a delicious seafood meal, I’d just visit my parents. It took until I was in my forties to really start cooking seafood at home on a regular basis. Pan-frying the odd fillet of Atlantic salmon doesn’t count.

Here’s to apéro hour — not a meal, not an afterthought, but a celebration of the small things done well. A drink that feels earned. A snack that sparks conversation. A reminder that joy often lives in the in-between.

If I had to name one habit that makes the biggest difference in how I cook, it wouldn’t be knife skills, fancy equipment, or even the quality of the ingredients. It would be this: tasting as I go.

There’s a school of thought that treats recipes as sacred texts — immutable, untouchable, to be followed exactly lest your dinner collapse in shame. I am not enrolled at that school. I transferred long ago to the far more chaotic (and frankly more fun) institution of Recipes as Templates.

Somewhere along the way, fusion became a bad word. It used to mean excitement, creativity on a plate, and borders blurred in the best way. When did fusion lose its charm?

I’m revisiting my own well-loved cookbooks — Nigella’s for pure comfort, and Delia Smith’s Complete Cookery Course for nostalgia. There’s also a small-batch recipe for Oatmeal Parkin, the kind of sticky ginger cake that makes rainy days something to look forward to. Put the kettle on, and let’s talk about flour, memory, and finding joy in the bake.

Unfortunately, cabbage has a reputation problem. Too many people first meet it boiled beyond recognition, limp and overtly sulfurous. But when prepared with a little care, cabbage delivers main character vibes in spades.

I’ve always struggled with breakfast. Even now, as I sit down to write this, it’s 10:40am and the only reason I’m eating now is because we’re going out for a 1pm lunch. If I skip food until then, I will be very unpleasant to be around.