1 hour ago · 7 min read1361 words · Life · hide · 0 comments

Much like your favourite recipe websites, I'm not going to get straight to the point, I'm going to start with a backstory and you're not getting a skip link. Having grown up with a dad who read cookbooks for leisure, and who caused me to turn vegetarian for several weeks once at the age of 13 when he presented me with a lamb heart stew for dinner, it was inevitable that I would be a foodie. Dad’s squid and red wine stew was my favourite dish as a child. He can't cook any more, but I have fond memories of those meals (even if I did eat as fast as I could so I could leave the table and go back on MSN) and I owe my inquisitive palate to his globetrotting home cooking. As middle-class Brits go, I’m as Waitrose as they come: say “Ottolenghi” three times into a Guardian tote bag and I’ll appear in a puff of sumac. These days, cooking for people is how I show love, which I definitely got from Dad. While the novelty's worn off for feeding myself and my husband (sorry James), I really enjoy…

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