Grandmothers… The Beginning of Everything

Some of my earliest childhood memories involve making a mess in the kitchen. As a five-year-old, there were the dogged attempts at replicating the chocolate truffles I’d seen my mum make. Enlisting the help of the kid next door, we’d haul ourselves up onto the kitchen worktop, raid the larder cupboard and deliberate over those jars and bottles whose contents were a mystery. We were indiscriminate with our ingredients and liberal with the quantities. Everything went into the bowl. Peanut butter, cocoa powder, brown sugar. So far, so good, right? Tabasco, soy sauce… It often started off promising – but somehow we could never resist the urge to find out…