A Year of Reflection

I grew up in rural Wales, in a small village populated by sheep and a few farmers.

As a child I dreamt of travelling the world and working in the glamourous industry of fashion. I dreamt of creating catwalk looks and designing clothes for the rich and famous. I dreamt of dinners in fancy restaurants, staying in luxurious hotels, being friends with influential people, owning a beautiful home and spending my holidays on desert islands.

As the world paused in the still of the pandemic, I stopped and realised that all my dreams had come true. I began to reflect on those earlier years. With all the strict social and travel restrictions, parallels appeared and brought back memories of my childhood, living in a 17th-century house in the middle of nowhere. No public transport, no school friends living nearby, limited sports activity and most of the time only my grandparents as company. 

My daughter and I saw the various lockdowns throughout the last year as a rare opportunity to experiment with our love of baking. Transforming many Welsh, British and German classics into healthier versions, we offered each other, on a daily basis, a little bit of love on a plate. We started exploring ways to continue the traditions and ideology of baking, the love and bonding which are involved with it, and as we went along we focused on modernising the ingredients too.

This is not just a recipe book, but also a conversation with Doris, my grandmother, and a way for me to tell her about the journey I have made so far and all the things I have learnt on the way about our diets, general well-being and living in these times, which

A postcard from the village I grew up in, showing my family home White House. I lived there with Doris for 18 years, we were a three-generation household and my bedroom was the top right window. Mid Wales, c. 1950.