From an early age I baked alongside my Mum. I didn’t understand what I was making at the time, but I remember rough puff pastry, crumbles, suet puddings and biscuits of all shapes and sizes. All were made whilst I was stood on a wooden stool, desperately trying to imitate her and do things correctly.
Years later, I confess to having many shelves of cookery books. There is something about the magpie in me that cannot resist the beautifully photographed images you find behind the covers; my replacement of something ‘sparkly’ I suppose. Baking books feature strongly, along with my 1960’s version of Gastronomique picked up from a church book stall, which I wouldn’t be without.
