Food is the most universal form of storytelling. We begin with where a dish comes from — the people, the place, the tradition — because knowing the story changes how you cook and eat.
"Three generations of Sunday sauce, adapted for an Australian kitchen. Nonna insists on milk in the soffritto — it's not negotiable."
"The recipe Mum made every Australia Day, with her secret: a pinch of espresso in the chocolate icing. She learnt it from her mother."
"The foundation of Japanese cooking, taught by a chef in a Kyoto ryokan. Two ingredients, five minutes, infinite depth."
"A breakfast dish that tells the story of North African migration to the Levant. Every family argues about cumin versus caraway."
"Nixtamalisation — the ancient process that made civilisation possible. Elena taught us to feel the masa, not measure it."
"Born in a Delhi restaurant in the 1950s, now one of the world's most beloved curries. Ravi's version uses his grandmother's garam masala blend."
A recipe divorced from its context is like a sentence without a paragraph. Knowing that ragù is a Sunday ritual in Bologna — not a weeknight shortcut — changes how you approach the dish. Context is flavour.
San Marzano tomatoes taste different because they grow in volcanic soil south of Naples. Oaxacan corn has been selectively cultivated for millennia. When you know where an ingredient comes from, you understand why it matters.
Every recipe was invented by someone, refined by a community, and passed through hands. We credit our sources — not because it's polite, but because the chain of knowledge is part of the dish itself.
Tell me what you eat, and I shall tell you what you are.Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, 1825
How we think about food, stories, and the relationship between them.
Every recipe begins with where it comes from — the region, the tradition, the cultural context. Geography shapes flavour, and we make that visible.
Recipes come from people. We name our sources, honour the chain of knowledge, and never present someone else's tradition as our own invention.
Knowing why a step exists makes you a better cook. We weave narrative into method, so context and technique reinforce each other.
Recipes evolve. We acknowledge variations rather than prescribing a single "authentic" version, because food traditions are alive, not frozen in time.