About me
My baking journey
Pastiche with Grandma
When I was about six years old I snuck into my gran's kitchen one night. I had seen her bake bechamel and cheese pasta enough times to know it was delicious, but also quite lengthy and more than just slightly unhealthy. So, as all bright kids do, I decided I was going to leave her with a splendid surprise in the morning: a magnificent and healthier pasta, ready to bake, that she could enjoy for lunch the very next day without having to work for it at all. Unfortunately, given that I was six and no one had explained this to me yet, I ended up trying to make bechamel with tomato puree instead of milk in order to make it healthier. To this day, I cannot describe how horrible that tasted, but my heart was in the right place. In the morning my gran found my "masterpiece" and, despite thanking me, wisely chose to throw it away and, from that day on, my cooking journey began.
The British Famine
Later in life I ended up having to move to the UK to study. It was an excellent decision for my brain, yet a tragic one for my stomach. As someone who had grown up with farm-to-table produce and excellent home cooking I was in shock when I got to the UK. Most supermarkets were full of frozen ready-to-microwave meals and even the base ingredients, like my beloved tomato sauce, were so adulterated with preservatives and sugar that I was sick almost every day. For the first two years of my stay I was in boarding school and I had to suffer through its food. When I finally got my own place, I started studying more assiduously than ever how to somehow obtain a fraction of the level I was used to from back home. I became a real chef, making my own tomato sauce, bread, even my own pasta from scratch. And, after a while, my survival skill became almost a passion.
Lockdown Bakes and Squirrel Cakes
2020, we all know what happened. For me it was crazy. I was stuck in this tiny one person apartment in central London and I found myself suddenly jobless at the same time. I had to save money, find something to do and find a way to not go insane in the apartment. I was luckily already a passionate baker and I had a fantastic box full of heritage flours, cane sugar, beautiful pasta and other such ingredients. My family always berated me for keeping a stock but my favourite flours were difficult to obtain so ordered them once in a while and kept them at home. Once the flour, toilet paper, water and other basics started disappearing off the shelves I found that my flour reserve was now a tiny treasure. However, since I was used to baking a lot, my flours all had expiry dates within the year. I found myself sorting the flours by expiry date and hoping for the best. One day, since the house had barely any sound insulation, I heard two of my elderly neighbours complainingf about their lack of bread for their everyday table and I found myself getting ideas. I studied up new ways to make my flour go further and I decided to bother with high hydration bakes, creating two 1kg loaves from a single kilo of flour. Then I started leaving loaves downstairs for my neighbours and got many a thank-you note. Once the situatiion got better, me and my neighbours made a bubble in our communal garden and all the children came out. I loved baking a different sweet for them every week and one time, when I had a bit more free time than usual. I made doughnuts. However, due to the cold at the time, they ended up being ready at 3am instead of 3pm. So I left them in the garden, not thinking much of it. I got the best and worst photo at 6am from a naighbour who caught a wild squirrel who had chewed through the thick plastic and cardboard of the box and was happily munching on one of the salted caramel doughnuts. Truly a memorable moment.