I like food and I like cooking food, it is that simple.

I was introduced to cooking quite young, I remember my parents hosting dinner parties and Mum running around in a dress, heels and an apron batting Dad away from the oven as he dipped spoons into whatever pan was left uncovered.

We always ate together as a family, sitting at the dinner table together, sport on the TV but family chatter definitely taking centre stage.  We never had ready meals, we rarely ate waffles and fish fingers (although there was the broccoli-pasta-gravy phase), and this set me up for a life of loving food.

For the longest time I lived either alone or with friends, all working long hours and leading hectic intertwining social lives leaving little time to nurture my cooking skills. Then I made the leap and moved into a little canal-side flat with the Tall Hungry One and vowed that although he may always be tall I will never allow him to go hungry.

When filling our space starved kitchen with gadgets, pans and knives we made the decision not to have a microwave, to the shock of many friends.  This means there can be no lazy meals and no half-arsed dinners.  Instead I scour cookbooks, magazines and food blogs for mouthwatering recipes.

My love for food and cooking has developed immeasurably, it isn’t just about putting food on a table anymore: it’s the preparation, the discovery and most importantly the enjoyment along the way.

Oh, we are also huge cheese and gin fans too.