I’ve never been able to clearly recall the months after Nani Mummy passed away. I’d begun a new life with the man I loved, the man who was meant to be my soulmate, but I’d also lost the person who I felt could have guided me through this transition.
Food had been such an intrinsic part of the time I spent with Nani Mummy: the buying of it, the cooking of it and the eating of it. It had been such a huge part of my childhood and my family’s travels as well, so when I moved in with my in-laws, it was natural for me to crave the same freedom in the kitchen that I’d grown up with. I’d felt free in my grandmother’s and my mother’s kitchens, but here I was looked on with suspicion. My mother-in-law was particular about the way she cooked and cleaned, and the sort of food she served her family; I couldn’t just take over.
