Love letters to food, cooking, and the moments we share at the table
Dear Kitchen, today I made time stand still. Four hours of patient braising transformed a humble shoulder into something transcendent...
Dear Kitchen, tonight I honoured the coast. Barramundi skin crackling like autumn leaves, kissed with native lemon myrtle...
Dear Kitchen, at midnight, when the world sleeps, we dance. Garlic sizzles, chilli whispers, and fifteen minutes later, pure comfort...
Dear Kitchen, Sunday belongs to us. The ritual of roasting, the aroma that fills every corner, the golden skin that crackles under the knife...
Dear Kitchen, tonight we travelled without leaving home. Green curry paste blooming in the pan, coconut milk like silk, Thai basil singing...
Dear Kitchen, patience is a kind of love. Twenty-four hours of waiting, folding, believing. Then dimpled dough, olive oil pools, and the scent of home...
Dear Kitchen, summer wrote a letter. Watermelon's sweet juiciness meeting feta's salty edge, mint's cool whisper, Aleppo pepper's gentle heat...
Dear Kitchen, tonight we conjured magic. Twelve minutes exactly. Not eleven, not thirteen. The moment the spoon breaks through, molten chocolate flows...