From Turkey Dinosaurs to Cooking my Own Lobster
My journey through food, a memoir of some sort.
Food has always held a special place in my heart, even if my early experiences with it were far from extraordinary. Growing up with three siblings and hardworking parents, our meals were often as straightforward as they were predictable. Oven dinners became our routine, a no-fuss way to feed a hungry family. When Mum did manage to cook from scratch, it was usually met with less-than-enthusiastic responses. Our cries for chicken nuggets and chips often drowned out any attempt at a more varied diet. Some other household classics included turkey dinosaurs with smiley potato faces, and buttery pasta with square-cut pieces of ham and sweetcorn.
Where our kitchen truly came alive was in its arena of cakes and desserts. Victoria sponges, peanut butter blondies, and chocolate Viennese biscuits were frequent indulgences, usually homemade by Mum or a collaborative effort with siblings. From a young age, we were all taught to bake, a passion that has certainly stuck with me and my three sisters. These sweet treats, simple and satisfying, nurtured my sweet tooth—something I continue to embrace with pride in my adult life. They serve as a comforting reminder of the joy and warmth I found in those sugary moments of my childhood.
When I went to university, my food journey took a pivotal turn. Suddenly, I was in a new world, far removed from the familiar meals of my childhood. University introduced me to a diverse, more vibrant culinary landscape. Falafel, pesto, and cannellini beans—foods I’d never encountered growing up—quickly became diet staples, representing a more cosmopolitan palate and marking my shift toward vegetarianism. This choice wasn’t just about ethics; it was a way to fit into the broader student culture. At times, ordering beef with your roast dinner in a student pub felt as controversial as opposing a Jeremy Corbyn policy. Food was not just sustenance; it was a statement, a way of navigating the social tapestry of university life.
Cooking became a creative outlet. Living away from home, I embraced the freedom to experiment. I filled my shopping basket with vegetables I’d never tried before, and social media became a treasure trove of recipe ideas. While there were definitely some kitchen disasters (and some combinations that no restaurant would dare serve), those early experiments laid the groundwork for my evolving culinary skills. Cooking was no longer just about feeding myself—it was about creativity, independence, and, most importantly, sharing that experience with others.
One of my fondest memories is from my final year at university. I took a trip to the local fish market, picked out fresh salmon, and prepared a meal for my five housemates before our end-of-year ball. The act of selecting the fish, preparing it with care, and sharing it with my friends felt like a milestone in my food journey. It wasn’t just a meal; it was a celebration of the skills I had learned and the joy of creating something meaningful for the people I cared about.
The pandemic marked another chapter in my food obsession. With more time on my hands and better kitchen gadgets than I had in my university house, I fully embraced my culinary creativity. My mum collects recipe magazines, which became a comforting source of inspiration. Their simple, seasonal recipes—like “The 10 Best Recipes to Eat in Your Garden This Summer”—were less intimidating than cookbooks and provided the perfect starting point. I began planning my meals for the week and, as time went on, writing down recipes and tweaks in my own notebook. It was thrilling, almost like I was creating my own culinary playbook. This phase helped me think more deeply about flavours and how ingredients come together to create something nourishing.
In September 2020, after the first lockdown, I moved to London, excited to live with friends and reclaim a sense of independence. Our kitchen was barely bigger than a shoebox (classic London rental), but I loved creating elaborate meals for my housemates on random weeknights. My pasta machine—a cherished gift from a friend—quickly became my pride and joy. I often transformed our tiny space into a makeshift Nonna’s kitchen for impromptu pasta nights. I also honed my sushi making skills, made my own ricotta, and tackled some of the more challenging recipes from my culinary icons like Meera Sodha and Ottolenghi. One standout “adulting” moment came on New Year’s Eve 2022 when my beloved housemates and I splurged on a whole lobster from our local fishmonger. I’ll never forget the brief squeal the lobster made as I lowered it into boiling water—it was a moment of guilt I quickly swallowed as we enjoyed a lavish seafood lunch, reminiscing about our favourite memories of the year.
Since then, cooking has remained a constant source of joy and creativity. I savour quiet evenings experimenting with recipes from my ever-growing list or hosting friends for seasonal feasts. Spending three months on a farm Italy was another defining chapter—being surrounded by nine like-minded food lovers was both inspiring and deeply fulfilling. There was no sense of competition; we simply wanted to create wholesome, delicious meals for the group using fresh, farm-sourced ingredients. It was a truly heartwarming experience. Sometimes, I imagine what it might be like to work in a professional kitchen, but after watching the latest season of The Bear, I’m content to keep my culinary adventures at home—for now, where I can experiment freely, adapt dishes to my taste, and embrace mistakes without the pressure of a bustling kitchen.
That’s a glimpse into my food journey so far. I’m lucky to now work with independent street food traders who take great pride in their cuisine. It’s inspiring to witness, and it’s deepening my appreciation for how food shapes our understanding of the world. Recently, I was gifted Julius Roberts’ The Farm Table cookbook for my birthday. After attending one of his talks over the summer and hearing about his inspiring transition from London to the countryside, my next culinary adventure will be diving into his seasonal recipes. Watch this space, I also hope the run my first supper club in 2025…
To close, I encourage everyone to reflect on their own food journey—what you ate growing up, the food decisions you make now, and what you’ve learned (or could learn) about other cultures through food.
Host that dinner party. Try a new recipe. Discover the story behind the restaurant you’re dining at. Embrace the joy of food…
🦞
I really loved this James! Totally agree with the sentiment of how leaving home can help change your relationship with food. It’s definitely been a journey for me too where I now find cooking a form of creative expression and a great act of self-care. Looking forward to supper clubs in the future (and our overdue dinner catch up!) 🍽️