I have an obsession with food. It started when I was young, when my
stomach seemed to rumble persistently in the days my father thought it was a
good idea to use the grocery money as leverage against my mother after she
discovered his secret life. I
remember she often went without so we could eat; and so, after a while, I
started pretending I wasn’t hungry either. Except, I was permanently ravenous. Some nights, my hunger propelled me to
clandestine visits to the kitchen where I would eat spoonfuls of peanut butter
in an effort to assuage the gnawing hunger. And then, when my father got custody of us, the other adult
who became responsible for our well-being thought it was a good idea to give my
brothers and I food that had started to spoil – as punishment for being the
children of her predecessor. Let’s
just say, a lesson was very quickly learnt: don’t be fussy or you go hungry.
Now, Matt and the girls witness my
meltdowns whenever I am hungry while we are out and about. It starts with a rumble and ends with
nausea and headaches. I go very
quiet and cannot meaningfully partake in ANY kind of conversation, becoming
useless socially (ie dangerously grumpy) until I have food. And then, food crosses my lips and a
transformation takes place. I lose
the crazed look and my poor family exhale a collective a sigh of relief as
conversation becomes less strained and I stop shooting daggers at the waiters
for being slow with my food.
But its not ALL doom and gloom or
unhinged breakdowns. Out of the
belly of a not-so-stellar childhood, a great love for food sprouted and a
‘call’ to feed (nearly!) anyone who’s orbit happens to cross mine has burgeoned
and grown. And I love it.
Yes, food still constantly plays on
my mind – but for different reasons.
As THE adult now in charge of sustenance in my house, I spend a lot of
my waking hours thinking about food.
What to cook. What to buy
to cook. What to eat. Today, tomorrow, next week... I wander through supermarket aisles
looking for inspiration; cookbooks and recipes torn from magazines form a
little Mount Everest in one corner of the house and I love the
drool-inducing-aroma of recipes that come together! Breakfasts at Chez Farlow
start with the girls’ individual orders, lunches during school term are made
with love, and dinners are devised to expand and excite their palates. Let’s just say next to school fees,
grocery bills are probably our biggest expense!
Furthermore, when we have gatherings,
I am rubbish at managing the guest list.
Matt jokes that when I invite people over, it always begins with a
couple or two (because I’ve promised to keep it small and intimate!), but I
always end up catering for at least twice that and almost the same number of
children. Simply put: I cannot help myself! I love the energy of a busy kitchen,
the orchestra emitted from cutlery and glasses clinking, people chatting and
laughing, and the wonderful ambience created when new and old friendships grow
and strengthen over a table of food prepared with love.
And so, out of hate, a love was born:
Buon Cibo, Buon Vino,
Buoni Amici per Una Buona Vita
– Good Food, Good Wine,
Good Friends for a Good Life
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