My kitchen, my place


For all intents and purposes, my kitchen is my domain. I don’t mean that in a manly kind of pissing on my territory kind of way, more in the sense that when the sun is shining in, I listen to the birds, drink coffee, and think about food. What do I want to make, how do I make it, and what I need to go shopping for. If you’re wondering, at the moment I’m reading loads of books about getting into making my own pasta.

I think that when you enjoy cooking as much as I do, having a kitchen which is your domain is very important and highly contributes to your mental health and wellbeing. I feel as though when I’m in here, I get to listen to what my soul wants and is yearning for. I’m not at work having to politely manage relationships, I do what I want. Everyone needs that space of theirs I think.

This is my first flat living away from home. I rent, so I ignore the old formica worktop that’s swelling up because the silicone seals have worn away, my dirty windows, the dirty splashback above my gas hob, the ugly linoleum floors and cupboards that look like the ones I had in my university halls of residence.

Instead, I feel an odd sense of belonging, and although I try and not subscribe to the nostalgic method of writing where you say things remind you of your childhood, I can hear my mum’s instructing me how to do things, and consequently my father’s voice for telling me how I did everything wrong. I can see my mum making fresh couscous from scratch, and my dad explaining how to make a great ragu.

When I’m in the kitchen I feel the same way I do when I go to an airport. I love just going there because of that sense of possibility, what you could achieve the other end and the experiences I could earn to wear with a badge of honour.

And the same applies for cooking, in my opinion. The first time I made a loaf of white bread, everyone suddenly knew, that guy bakes. So I always got questions about that. The same goes for making cheese, I’ve brewed my own beer and I’ve cured my own meat. I’m surprised I haven’t made myself a scout’s like badge system yet.

As I said, I’m thinking about starting to make my own pasta, and I’m genuinely sat in my kitchen typing this with a sense of wonder at the endless possibilities of what I could make. So stay tuned for more on that. First stop, ravioli town.

Cooking is very important to me, and so is my kitchen.