Italy, a food story
I have always loved food. As a child I’d go to people’s houses and be considered a pleasure to feed because I ate what I was given. “Oh, she’s a good eater, isn’t she?” I grew up in kitchens, the days punctuated by the smells of stews in the oven and a Yorkshire range, baking days, cake making, huge Sunday roasts with Yorkshire puddings, spaghetti bolognese and Angel Delight. I iced and licked spoons, and then as a teenager began my first solo attempts. I made meals to feed whole streets, and caused my mother to despair. “Have you seen the mess?” If I’d seen the mess, I certainly hadn’t noted it, being far too lost in the world of food.
Fast forward several years and I got on a plane to Italy. There I began a journey that took me through mountain refuges, restaurants and people’s homes. I learned to cook Italian food by eating it, watched others, saw how they did it, brought it all back into my kitchen. I learned to respect food by learning about how it was made. I learned that a food has a season, a time and a place. I am still the ‘good eater.’ I take great pleasure in food and in the creativity of food. I’m fascinated by its history and the role it plays in culture and our daily lives. I cook what I like and what I have time for, write and bring up my children alongside it all. All this makes its way into my kitchen and my classes.
I look forward to welcoming you into my kitchen.
“Add a testimonial from someone who loves what you do.”Jane Doe