I’ve decided to start this blog after months of pondering if this is a good idea – in the end I’m just a humble home cook with no training and no Instagram account with thousands of followers. One thing I do have though is a serious passion for flavour and food.
My fondest childhood memories feature the kitchen in my grandparent’s flat. This was the centre of the household and the source of intoxicating scent of master-level seasoning and homemade pasta for Sunday chicken broth, courtesy of Grandad. Grandma was the cake baker and regional specialities expert (she was born in Poznan, my Grandad was a Varsovian). They both had their areas of expertise and worked well as a team, filling the gaps for each other.
I remember turning pages of old cookbooks and looking at photos, being curious about the dishes; browsing the recipes became one of my favourite pastimes once I learned to read.
My Grandma always made sure I tried new flavours, especially fruit – it was equally exciting for her to try new things as well as getting me to me try them and compare the notes. The only thing she would never insist on me trying was offal, because I was spectacularly sick after smelling fried liver. In some circles that probably makes me unworthy of ever claiming I enjoy food, let alone writing a food blog. Alas, here I am, a self-proclaimed food hedonist.