Mine has seen birthday cakes, homework, book reading, deadlines, joy, arguments, laughter: the shorthand of domestic life. I was proposed to at a kitchen table. I’ve thrown plates over one (but not for a few years). I’ve laughed, cried, smoked, written books and put the world to rights at one. The kitchen table is one of the places where I am happiest.
This website is simply an archive of my favourite recipes, recipes from books and articles I’ve written, some written by friends; a live place that you might seek out or stumble upon, and find recipes which you make your own.
At my kitchen table, there’s a lot of cake. There’s good coffee. Sometimes there’s tequila. There are babies on knees, there’s probably a dog or a cat skittling underfoot. There’s likely some Nina Simone playing. There are blowsy flowers. There are flaws there, chipped china, bruised hearts and conundrums. There’s also a roof beam raising sense of happiness. Some slow cooked stew laced with a dirty laugh. You are welcome there.
A kitchen table for me is the hearthstone of family. A place of connection and comfort. It represents so very much.