There’s something quite embarrassing about starting a blog, isn’t there? Who cares what a random guy from London cooks in his spare time? I’ve got no idea — but I guess we’ll find out!
Since the start of the COVID pandemic, I’ve been living with my parents in Somerset. Most kids look forward to meals from their childhood, when they go home visit their family. But for me, it’s never really been like that.
My dad was a butcher — and when I ‘came out’ to him as vegetarian, he pretty much told me off the bat:
“You’d better learn how to cook, son”
I took his advice — and over the years, got green-fingered with the veg.
There’s nothing I love more than gathering my ingredients, putting on some music and cooking for hours. Sometimes, it’s a disaster. Other times, I’m pretty damn proud.
This blog is my repository for the all things that worked out. It’s also a virtual recipe book for my mum, who keeps asking me to write down each and every thing I serve up to her. I’m pleased to say that, having cooked for my dad these past few months, he’s decided that vegan isn’t quite as bad as he thought. He’s even said once or twice:
“I could get used to eating vegan stuff”
I think that’s the strongest compliment a vegan can expect from a butcher.
(Sorry for all you folks who meant to end up at Fat Gay Vegan’s blog. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, you’ve come to the wrong place. But hopefully you’ll stick around for a bit and give me a chance too)