TALKING ABOUT FOOD

September - the summer wanes, the rain hits the pavement and then just has you’ve accepted the need for jumpers and umbrellas, days of sun. September, decide who you want to be and just go with it, you’re playing with my emotions, my wardrobe choices and my sensibilities. But that’s the beauty of the first days of autumn. Leaves turn orange as late morning sun shines through their delicate foliage - September is the month where anything and everything can happen, in one day. This September has been no different. It’s been a year since Dan and I sat down and devised the Chefs of Tomorrow plan, and now we have a new, bigger, more adventurous idea for the CoT (details soon, as soon as we know…!). It’s exciting to see how one thing, one idea, on one Sunday in September has grown into this new vision of a project (now I’m just being mean cos I can’t tell you the plan). Which reminded me how wonderful it is to work with people who are big thinkers, supportive and enthusiasti...

This year I've been  writing a play that looks at how food feeds into our understanding of home and belonging. It's about a Malaysian woman who moves to the UK, misses home, sets up a street food stall selling Malaysian food... The play is called 'Don't sing in the kitchen, or you'll marry an old man', check out the project here: www.DontSing.co.uk As part of research for this project I have been speaking with people in London about food and home. In the series ‘Home, Food & Business’ I have been focusing on those who have developed a career around food that reminds them of home and who predominantly have ‘home’ in multiple places.I thought I would gather those interviews here.

When I learnt how to sail, the first thing I was taught was how to capsize. When I went to gymnastics, the first thing I was taught was how to fall. Falling, capsizing – failing - was all about the recovery; and in gymnastics, it was all about recovering gracefully, getting up with style. I got married young. I got divorced young. A dramatic story of my 20s. He left for me another women. My heart broke. The divorce paperwork nearly killed me. But, it was a wonderful relationship; until, it wasn't. And now I'm saddled with this yoke of a 'failed marriage’. But what if we think about failure differently? It’s a cliché, but these kinda heartbreaks are what makes me who I am today - if I am not a success, at the very least I have survived. 100 years ago the average marriage lasted about a decade - women died in childbirth, life span was a lot less, so ‘forever’ had a different meaning. We have thankfully moved on from then and are living healthier, longer lives, ...