I started a blog a few months ago, it was going to be about the comparison between London (where I used to live) and New York (where I live now). But I lacked inspiration. For a Blog to be compelling you need to be very angry about something (preferably with a sprinkling of wit) or you need to be very passionate about something. And about New York and London, really, I was neither. In general, I'm just pretty happy with my life here, but I was pretty happy with my life in London too so I think my Blog lacked passion and direction. I needed to start anew.
Now food, there's something you can be passionate about. I've long been obsessed with the stuff. I blame my parents - bitten by the travel bug a long time ago they bestowed that rather expensive little hobby on both my brother and myself, and with the travel came the exploration of far-flung delicacies - to the detriment of my waistline and bank balance. That sounds a bit ungrateful, when in fact, the exact opposite is true. I think an understanding and love for foreign travel and an inquisitive palette are two of the most marvellous gifts a parent can ever give to a child. You certainly wouldn't think I'm grateful if you could hear me swear about that inquisitive palette every time I get drenched in puddle by a cab on the FDR whilst trying to run away the calories from my latest indulgences, but I am grateful, honestly.
My parents lived in Zambia for a number of years - my brother was born there and they came home just before I arrived. They'd lived out in the bush, a good day of driving away from the nearest place for food supplies and I think that probably contributed somewhat to their appreciation of good food. And Zambia certainly led them to delight in finding certain African fruits and vegetables in the Greengrocers at home (mangoes were hardly ubiquitous in the early 80's in The Lake District). I can remember going into the kitchen long after I should have been in bed one night and finding them hidden away like kids smoking behind the bike sheds complete with the guilty expressions - they were armed with two teaspoons, an avocado and a pot of salt.
So, just as they treated me to a slice of that avocado, I have decided to share my gastronomic joy, wherever I find it, with whoever would like to read it. Sometimes it will be restaurants I have found on my travels. Sometimes it will be recipes I have discovered in books. Sometimes it will be recipes of my own creation or even attempts to recreate things I have eaten somewhere. Whatever it is, if it takes someone else on a culinary adventure, then my work here is done.
