Cooking it. Learning about it. Experimenting with it. Exploring people and cultures through it. And relishing every bite and taste of every morsel that enters my mouth.
For me it is a love like no other. My first memory is of me as a 2 year old feeling happy about my bottle of vanilla favoured eggnog, virgin of course. My mum thought it was nutritious and I supposedly thought it was yummy. Growing up, no amount of bribing could get me to read the Famous Fives or Hardy Boys lining the shelves. But my mum’s copy of Tarla Dala’s cookbook got me to read my first book cover to cover. I made Hakka noodles when I was 12. I baked a pound cake in my grandfather’s vintage Wee Baby Belling when I was 13. Every inch of my expanding waistline, at that time, was testament to my love of food.
But at 17, when I had an opportunity to do something more with this love, I gave it up. I gave up on an opportunity to study at a premier culinary school, because I thought I needed to study something more substantive. Do an MBA and get that great job.
I did all of that and a little more. I lost the pounds and food, cooking and everything around it was relegated to an on-off weekend hobby.
But now, many years later, I find myself wanting to connect back with that original love of food. That love that had me so consumed during my growing years. So this blog is my action towards that. I have much to catch up on, so I would love for you to share your views with me as I share my food journey with you.