I have been thinking about starting / writing a blog for a while now, but haven’t had nearly enough time to even think about it….I have tell you people I am excited at the prospect of exploring my culinary destiny. I have thought about food all my life and I think it’s only now that I care enough about myself and the future I want to build for myself that is driving me forward. To say I want to be “good with food” is an understatement; I want to be out of this world, and I am willing to pour my heart onto a plate ( ok, the pun was cheesy) to do this. Share your thoughts with me, share your passions with me and the rest should be easy! See you in the kitchen.

The Beginning
So I have been thinking about this Blog alot since i decided in myself that this is what I wanted to devote time to. Sharing all my thoughts with people is no easy feat, just ask my very tolerant girlfriend. The one solace I have is that food is something I am starting to discover in all its glories.

Now of course I have eaten food all my life, and I have loved food for pretty much all my life too, yet I have only recently put a value on this love/passion (excuse the use of this word, but it is going to come into use a lot in this blog). My current career path has just disintegrated in front of my very eyes and now is the time to throw caution to the wind, say boo to my previous goals and and follow these passions with all my heart.  Food is top of the list, but music and travel are up there to, and the long list of things I have been meaning to get to all my life, but have never had/found/bothered to look for the time to do this. So learning French is at the top of this list, along with a whole menagerie of other interests I have, but I think French ties in quite nicely with the starting point for this blog.

Some of my earliest food memories are extremely contradictory. On the one hand I have a vegetarian mother, with folk and hippy roots, who raised me on all sorts of new aged pre-made vege dishes in cans, cooked and served with a potato casserole here or a spicy lentil stew there ; you have to understand that this was the 80s and vege’s were a race not well catered for, apart from the obvious…. vegetables. On the other hand i had two grandparents intent on working their way through the UK’s surplus meat mountains, starting with roast beef dinners, steak and kidney pies, brekkies with all the trimmings, even pigs blood sausages, cottage pies, shepherds pies, steaks, chicken fricassee, chicken wings, legs, gizzards etc, roasted pork bellies, spare ribs, lamb chops, legs shoulders…………I think you are starting to get the idea. Whilst i had a mother intent on saving the animals, for everyone she saved, my grandparents had eaten 2 more whole, well seasoned of course !

One of my earliest food memories, certainly the bloodiest, was one of our many trips to France as a child. We were staying in a classic French gite in the middle of nowhere, sunflower and corn fields next door in the surrounding fields. On the same plot were a French family who put growing your own, rearing animals and self sufficiency at the top of the list of daily life. Livestock was literally everywhere; chickens running around pecking, clucking, crowing; pigs sniffing out the next nibble and rolling around in varying different brown puddles, cows in the field out the back mooing and masticating….. a wonderous cacophony of noises and smells. The “maman” of the family and clear wearer of trousers snatched up a hen, by its neck, from the overcrowded yard and shoved it under her arm and marched off towards the family kitchen. I was young, curious, and most of all nosey as hell, and as I had been pretty much banished to entertaining myself in the mini french oasis of serenity and traditionalism that we had found ourself in, i decided to follow her. The next 10 minutes unfolded in front of my young impressionable eyes as serenely and systematically as if she was washing the dishes. As i walked through the door to the kitchen, all I heard was fwoomp (that what it sounded like if you say it quite quickly) as the sound of metal connected with wood. And that is when I saw it…. looking back up at me, void of sound…of movement…….The chickens head.

My reaction to this, and the next few minutes of dismantling of this once happy little pecking, clucking, crowing bird, surprised me. I didn’t pull my head away in disgust, bile didn’t rush up my throat to be released on to the kitchen floor, no siree, quite the opposite in fact. I leant ever closer to see what is was she was doing and craned my neck ever closer to catch a glimpse of the bird being made ready for consumption. I had only ever seen chicken wrapped in cellophane packets adorning many a supermarket chilled section, but this food experience was so much more than that……. The seed was planted from that moment on, and I subconsciously continued to seek out new and exciting mouth experiences.


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