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In the Kitchen: Essays on Food and Life
I learned that before entering the kitchen, I must get the measure of its hold over me.’
Food can embody our personal history as well as wider cultural histories. But what are the stories we tell ourselves about the kitchen, and how do we first come to it? How do the cookbooks we read shape us? Can cooking be a tool for connection in the kitchen and outside of it?
In these essays thirteen writers consider the subjects of cooking and eating and how they shape our lives, and the possibilities and limitations the kitchen poses. Rachel Roddy traces an alternative personal history through the cookers in her life; Rebecca May Johnson considers the radical potential of finger food; Ruby Tandoh discovers other definitions of sweetness through the work of writer Doreen Fernandez; Yemisí Aríbisálà remembers a love affair in which food failed as a language; and Julia Turshen considers food’s ties to community.
A collection to savour and inspire, In the Kitchen brings together thirteen contemporary writers whose work brilliantly explores food, capturing their reflections on their experiences in the kitchen and beyond.
Food can embody our personal history as well as wider cultural histories. But what are the stories we tell ourselves about the kitchen, and how do we first come to it? How do the cookbooks we read shape us? Can cooking be a tool for connection in the kitchen and outside of it?
In these essays thirteen writers consider the subjects of cooking and eating and how they shape our lives, and the possibilities and limitations the kitchen poses. Rachel Roddy traces an alternative personal history through the cookers in her life; Rebecca May Johnson considers the radical potential of finger food; Ruby Tandoh discovers other definitions of sweetness through the work of writer Doreen Fernandez; Yemisí Aríbisálà remembers a love affair in which food failed as a language; and Julia Turshen considers food’s ties to community.
A collection to savour and inspire, In the Kitchen brings together thirteen contemporary writers whose work brilliantly explores food, capturing their reflections on their experiences in the kitchen and beyond.
177 pages, Paperback
First published October 3, 2020
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November 8, 2021Visually this is an attractive little book, with a bright cover illustration promising notes of citrus behind Mediterranean herbs. Inside there are fifteen or so mini bites, known as essays divided in to three groups - personally I think this was done to bulk out the length of the book overall, but other reviewers say they found it meaningful.
Eventually it was easy buffet reading, I did labour my way through the first piece which was also the most intriguing of the book - a woman telling her lifestory through the cookers that she used. As soon as I finished the second story and perhaps even before I could not remember what it was about, and those first thirty one pages, I noted, had taken me about five days to read. After that I was just spooning my way through deserts until the last word.
My own two favourite bites were Yemisi Aribisala's very funny account of relationship breakdown in the context of conflicting English and Nigerian food cultures with the lip smacking title of "The Long and Short of the Love affair that Imploded because of Eccles Cakes, Three-Quarters of a Quiche and Don't-Cut-My-Leg African Chicken". And if we can pausing our chewing for a moment we can maybe easily imagine how central food culture is in the success or failure of a relationship, so it is not a surprise to find that many of these snack essays are about relationships; romantic, familial, or social. The other favourite was Rebecca Liu on "The Future of Food" which opens with a comparison between the advertising posters in the metro systems of Hong Kong, Beijing, and London before breaking into an account of the impact of a food-meal delivery box service on the lives of herself and her boyfriend and how eventually this product of an alienated Capitalist culture comes to be for her an escape from alienated Capitalist into a world of community and creativity through becoming confident in the kitchen and cooking for others (and herself). The company whose food-meal-box service she uses might not use her piece as advertising, because in the end she outgrows it rather than remaining dependant on its cardboard enclosed delights.
Thinking about it the piece about the horrors of all you can eat buffets is interesting in that it is not about the delight in excessive eating and indulgence like something from Rabalais, but instead the dominant tone is self-disgust, there isn't the self-confidence to be joyous in indulgence, no doubt a sign of how central the idea of self-control, at least for the less wealthy in society, has become to British food culture.
On the whole this is the kind of book that you can consume between meals and that won't spoil your appetite for other reading, like the plate of party food it tantalises and intrigues more than it delights or satisfies, but that is probably the spot on the tongue that you want to hit with a book of essays.
Eventually it was easy buffet reading, I did labour my way through the first piece which was also the most intriguing of the book - a woman telling her lifestory through the cookers that she used. As soon as I finished the second story and perhaps even before I could not remember what it was about, and those first thirty one pages, I noted, had taken me about five days to read. After that I was just spooning my way through deserts until the last word.
My own two favourite bites were Yemisi Aribisala's very funny account of relationship breakdown in the context of conflicting English and Nigerian food cultures with the lip smacking title of "The Long and Short of the Love affair that Imploded because of Eccles Cakes, Three-Quarters of a Quiche and Don't-Cut-My-Leg African Chicken". And if we can pausing our chewing for a moment we can maybe easily imagine how central food culture is in the success or failure of a relationship, so it is not a surprise to find that many of these snack essays are about relationships; romantic, familial, or social. The other favourite was Rebecca Liu on "The Future of Food" which opens with a comparison between the advertising posters in the metro systems of Hong Kong, Beijing, and London before breaking into an account of the impact of a food-meal delivery box service on the lives of herself and her boyfriend and how eventually this product of an alienated Capitalist culture comes to be for her an escape from alienated Capitalist into a world of community and creativity through becoming confident in the kitchen and cooking for others (and herself). The company whose food-meal-box service she uses might not use her piece as advertising, because in the end she outgrows it rather than remaining dependant on its cardboard enclosed delights.
Thinking about it the piece about the horrors of all you can eat buffets is interesting in that it is not about the delight in excessive eating and indulgence like something from Rabalais, but instead the dominant tone is self-disgust, there isn't the self-confidence to be joyous in indulgence, no doubt a sign of how central the idea of self-control, at least for the less wealthy in society, has become to British food culture.
On the whole this is the kind of book that you can consume between meals and that won't spoil your appetite for other reading, like the plate of party food it tantalises and intrigues more than it delights or satisfies, but that is probably the spot on the tongue that you want to hit with a book of essays.
November 16, 2020
'I would make her a cup of tea without asking her whether she'd like one or how she takes it, which is in and of itself a profound intimacy [...] To know how someone else takes their tea - tea or coffee; milk or sugar or lemon - is a small and delightful privilege because it's a fact of too little consequence to be ferreted out except with small repeated acts of care.' Ella Risbridger, Cupboard Love
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I loved this collection of essays. At a time when the most exciting part of my day is often cooking a favourite dinner or trying something new and one of the things I miss the most is eating with other people, I found these essays both funny and moving.
.
I loved this collection of essays. At a time when the most exciting part of my day is often cooking a favourite dinner or trying something new and one of the things I miss the most is eating with other people, I found these essays both funny and moving.
June 9, 2022
This was a purely soul-filling, comforting read! Absolutely comforting and delightful.
Excerpt from: "In the Kitchen: Writing on Home Cooking and More" by Yemisi Aribisala. (112/143) Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.
Read this book on Scribd: https://www.scribd.com/book/501239518
“A kitchen is a space of great ambition, of patience, of comfort, and of failure. During weeks when one cannot go out, a kitchen takes on different qualities throughout the day. In the mornings, the room feels light and full of possibility, benches hastily cleared from dinner the night before, morning sun touching the tiles. In the kitchen, memories live in the body, just under the skin and under the tongue. Scents and residues from childhood rub off on our hands.”
Excerpt from: "In the Kitchen: Writing on Home Cooking and More" by Yemisi Aribisala. (112/143) Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.
Read this book on Scribd: https://www.scribd.com/book/501239518
December 5, 2020
Well... that was completely delightful! 😍
Those that know me, know I rarely read Non Fiction.... but when I do, it’s more often than not about food! Food writing speaks to my soul.... and this lovely collection was moving, mouthwatering, diverse and fascinating in equal measures.
#pop2020 #anthology .... just the AI prompt to finish now.
Those that know me, know I rarely read Non Fiction.... but when I do, it’s more often than not about food! Food writing speaks to my soul.... and this lovely collection was moving, mouthwatering, diverse and fascinating in equal measures.
#pop2020 #anthology .... just the AI prompt to finish now.
July 10, 2021
reading one of these essays whilst eating your breakfast is bloody delightful
July 28, 2021
bringing together all 13 contemporary writers, this is a collection of essays exploring on food & life - capturing their reflections in the kitchen and beyond.
rouding this up to ⭐️⭐️⭐️/5. reading this felt like a roller coaster ride lmao bc i find myself getting into some of the stories but there are also stories where i felt that they are less interesting to read. i love the fact how they split the stories into 3 parts though - coming to the kitchen, reading & writing the kitchen and beyond the kitchen.
i personally love the beyond the kitchen section the most bc i was pretty much invested in the stories as it relates to the community & how cooking means a lot to one's life. this would certainly be such a joy to read if you love to cook or if youre a food lover.
"when i reflect deeply on this lifelong love affair with cooking, one of the most remarkable things i see is that cooking has for me always been as much about people as its been about food. cooking is a tool for connecting us all together".
rouding this up to ⭐️⭐️⭐️/5. reading this felt like a roller coaster ride lmao bc i find myself getting into some of the stories but there are also stories where i felt that they are less interesting to read. i love the fact how they split the stories into 3 parts though - coming to the kitchen, reading & writing the kitchen and beyond the kitchen.
i personally love the beyond the kitchen section the most bc i was pretty much invested in the stories as it relates to the community & how cooking means a lot to one's life. this would certainly be such a joy to read if you love to cook or if youre a food lover.
"when i reflect deeply on this lifelong love affair with cooking, one of the most remarkable things i see is that cooking has for me always been as much about people as its been about food. cooking is a tool for connecting us all together".
January 6, 2021
The first section, Coming to the Kitchen, was my absolute favourite. Including Juliet Annan’s essay on publishing cookbooks, and Ella Risbridger’s one on the concept of kitchen intimacy with the following quote that I found particularly charming:
“To know how someone else takes their tea - tea or coffee; milk or sugar or lemon - is a small and delightful privilege because it’s a fact of too little consequence to be ferreted out except with small repeated acts of care”
“To know how someone else takes their tea - tea or coffee; milk or sugar or lemon - is a small and delightful privilege because it’s a fact of too little consequence to be ferreted out except with small repeated acts of care”
December 27, 2020
“There is something about the kitchen that invites intimacy. I suppose kitchens are a space for intimacy because I will touch with my hands the things that will go in your mouth; I will taste what you taste; I will work for you, or you will work for me. I will make this for you because I love you, because you need it, because you want it.” - Ella Risbridger, ‘Cupboard Love’.
September 27, 2021
Any reader of my reviews will already know that I am consistently drawn to themed anthologies. I am also a huge fan of food, both of preparing and eating it. It was inevitable, then, that I would pick up In the Kitchen: Essays on Food and Life, which brings together original pieces by many different authors. The gorgeously designed book has been released by the publishing arm of Daunt Books, and it looks to be part of a small series of anthologies on specific themes. I have already read and loved At the Pond: Swimming at the Hampstead Ladies' Pond, and hope to be able to pick up In the Garden very soon.
The book's blurb declares that food 'can embody our personal histories as well as wider cultural histories. But what are the stories we tell ourselves about the kitchen, and how do we first come to it?' The collection aims to explore whether food, and the process of cooking, can be 'a tool for connection', both in the physical space of the kitchen, and in the wider world.
In the Kitchen features work from new-to-me authors, as well as those whom I have read and enjoyed before - Daisy Johnson, Ruby Tandoh, and Nina Mingya Powles, to name but three. There are thirteen essays in total, and each considers various aspects of cooking and eating, and 'the possibilities and limitations the kitchen poses.' Throughout, the authors discuss their experiences of cooking in a particular kitchen, or simply being present in one. Almost every essay is bound up with memories; they seem inextricable from the process of using the kitchen as an adult.
I love the way in which each of the included pieces are so very different. In 'A Life in Cookers', Rachel Roddy writes about the ovens which she has lived with, from 'the heavyweight comforter' of an Aga in her childhood home, to 'a cream and green electric cooker with hot plates like liquorice whirls' owned by her grandparents. On said cooker, her grandmother 'boiled tongue for hours and made pan after pan of a minced beef and potato stew called tattie hash, the smell of which clung to the wallpaper like a pattern, along with worry and love.' In Ella Risbridger's essay, the author details the sensuality which often strike her when she is in the kitchen: 'There is something about the kitchen that invites intimacy. I suppose kitchens are a space for intimacy because I will touch with my hands the things that will go in your mouth; I will taste what you taste; I will work for you, or you will work for me. I will make this for you because I love you, because you need it, because you want it.'
In 'The New Thing', Juliet Annan - who taught herself to cook using often vague Penguin paperbacks - details some of the questionable menus which she made for friends in the late 1970s: '... October 14 is Whiting and Fennel Soup, followed by Stuffed Cabbage, followed by Apple Steamed Pudding; very heavy. It makes me wonder about central heating - did we not have any? - but even on a summer's day I see the menu was: Lettuce and Hazelnut Soup, Spiced Chicken with Tomato Salad and New Potatoes and then Baked Alaska and Fruit Salad.' Annan goes on to remark: '... I was cooking dinners like this at least twice a week: the suet pudding years, and I was turning into one.'
Daisy Johnson writes about rituals surrounding food, such as her family's tradition of making pizzas from scratch on Christmas Eve. She says that this tradition is 'older than I am and has changed as my siblings and I have grown.' Johnson goes on to comment that writing about food is 'almost impossible', and difficult to capture: 'I would like to write about the ritual of food. I would like to write about how food rituals grow and about the ones that I have grown with my family and friends. I would like to write about how these rituals have come about seemingly without discussion and are now almost impossible to break.'
In 'Steam', Nina Mingya Powles talks about the foods bound up with her Asian heritage, and the almost endless variations of the same dish which can be found from one country to another. She tells us, in her rich and careful prose: 'My most treasured childhood foods are steamed: dumplings, bao, parcels of sticky rice wrapped in leaves, silky cheung fun. Somehow, steaming feels more alchemical than other ways of cooking.' As with Powles, for many of these authors, food is deeply connected to their treasured memories, and to fostering a sense of community at different points in their lives. Powles captures this beautifully when she writes: 'In the kitchen, memories live in the body, just under the skin and under the tongue. Scents and residues from childhood rub off on our hands.'
Rebecca Liu takes a different tack, exploring the recent phenomenon of recipe boxes in her essay. Laura Freeman ponders over the diets of famous writers; for example, Iris Murdoch's 'surprise pudding', which she served to her friends, and which turned out to be 'a single Mr Kipling cake'. Ruby Tandoh writes of Doreen Fernandez, who 'travelled widely across many of the 7,641 islands that comprise the Philippines, documenting the ways in which multiple cultures (and multiple colonisers) have... often synthesised to create the diverse and endlessly inventive foods of the country.' The essayists draw their inspiration from a wealth of different sources - films, literature, love affairs, or the country of origin of a former partner, for example.
The separate essays have been arranged into three sections, entitled 'Coming to the Kitchen', 'Reading and Writing the Kitchen', and 'Beyond the Kitchen'. So many of the authors have been wonderfully inventive and, as I have demonstrated above, have gone in very different directions in what they have explored here. A loose structure, such as the one which the separate sections gives, is effective.
I found In the Kitchen both immersive, and highly entertaining. I was awed by the variety which it contained, and took something particular from every single piece. Every essay made me contemplate something, and - as well as making me feel very hungry! - connected me with a lot of memories in the various kitchens which I have known during my lifetime. I can only hope that Daunt Books expand this as-yet small collection, and in the meantime, I look forward to reading much more of the publishing house's back catalogue.
If you are a self-confessed foodie, like I am, In the Kitchen will be an incredibly valuable addition to your reading life. I relish books like this, which push me in the directions of different cuisines which I am not as familiar with as I would like to be, recipes which I have not yet tried, and techniques which I have not explored in my cooking. I very much look forward to implementing everything which I have learnt from this excellent collection in my own kitchen.
The book's blurb declares that food 'can embody our personal histories as well as wider cultural histories. But what are the stories we tell ourselves about the kitchen, and how do we first come to it?' The collection aims to explore whether food, and the process of cooking, can be 'a tool for connection', both in the physical space of the kitchen, and in the wider world.
In the Kitchen features work from new-to-me authors, as well as those whom I have read and enjoyed before - Daisy Johnson, Ruby Tandoh, and Nina Mingya Powles, to name but three. There are thirteen essays in total, and each considers various aspects of cooking and eating, and 'the possibilities and limitations the kitchen poses.' Throughout, the authors discuss their experiences of cooking in a particular kitchen, or simply being present in one. Almost every essay is bound up with memories; they seem inextricable from the process of using the kitchen as an adult.
I love the way in which each of the included pieces are so very different. In 'A Life in Cookers', Rachel Roddy writes about the ovens which she has lived with, from 'the heavyweight comforter' of an Aga in her childhood home, to 'a cream and green electric cooker with hot plates like liquorice whirls' owned by her grandparents. On said cooker, her grandmother 'boiled tongue for hours and made pan after pan of a minced beef and potato stew called tattie hash, the smell of which clung to the wallpaper like a pattern, along with worry and love.' In Ella Risbridger's essay, the author details the sensuality which often strike her when she is in the kitchen: 'There is something about the kitchen that invites intimacy. I suppose kitchens are a space for intimacy because I will touch with my hands the things that will go in your mouth; I will taste what you taste; I will work for you, or you will work for me. I will make this for you because I love you, because you need it, because you want it.'
In 'The New Thing', Juliet Annan - who taught herself to cook using often vague Penguin paperbacks - details some of the questionable menus which she made for friends in the late 1970s: '... October 14 is Whiting and Fennel Soup, followed by Stuffed Cabbage, followed by Apple Steamed Pudding; very heavy. It makes me wonder about central heating - did we not have any? - but even on a summer's day I see the menu was: Lettuce and Hazelnut Soup, Spiced Chicken with Tomato Salad and New Potatoes and then Baked Alaska and Fruit Salad.' Annan goes on to remark: '... I was cooking dinners like this at least twice a week: the suet pudding years, and I was turning into one.'
Daisy Johnson writes about rituals surrounding food, such as her family's tradition of making pizzas from scratch on Christmas Eve. She says that this tradition is 'older than I am and has changed as my siblings and I have grown.' Johnson goes on to comment that writing about food is 'almost impossible', and difficult to capture: 'I would like to write about the ritual of food. I would like to write about how food rituals grow and about the ones that I have grown with my family and friends. I would like to write about how these rituals have come about seemingly without discussion and are now almost impossible to break.'
In 'Steam', Nina Mingya Powles talks about the foods bound up with her Asian heritage, and the almost endless variations of the same dish which can be found from one country to another. She tells us, in her rich and careful prose: 'My most treasured childhood foods are steamed: dumplings, bao, parcels of sticky rice wrapped in leaves, silky cheung fun. Somehow, steaming feels more alchemical than other ways of cooking.' As with Powles, for many of these authors, food is deeply connected to their treasured memories, and to fostering a sense of community at different points in their lives. Powles captures this beautifully when she writes: 'In the kitchen, memories live in the body, just under the skin and under the tongue. Scents and residues from childhood rub off on our hands.'
Rebecca Liu takes a different tack, exploring the recent phenomenon of recipe boxes in her essay. Laura Freeman ponders over the diets of famous writers; for example, Iris Murdoch's 'surprise pudding', which she served to her friends, and which turned out to be 'a single Mr Kipling cake'. Ruby Tandoh writes of Doreen Fernandez, who 'travelled widely across many of the 7,641 islands that comprise the Philippines, documenting the ways in which multiple cultures (and multiple colonisers) have... often synthesised to create the diverse and endlessly inventive foods of the country.' The essayists draw their inspiration from a wealth of different sources - films, literature, love affairs, or the country of origin of a former partner, for example.
The separate essays have been arranged into three sections, entitled 'Coming to the Kitchen', 'Reading and Writing the Kitchen', and 'Beyond the Kitchen'. So many of the authors have been wonderfully inventive and, as I have demonstrated above, have gone in very different directions in what they have explored here. A loose structure, such as the one which the separate sections gives, is effective.
I found In the Kitchen both immersive, and highly entertaining. I was awed by the variety which it contained, and took something particular from every single piece. Every essay made me contemplate something, and - as well as making me feel very hungry! - connected me with a lot of memories in the various kitchens which I have known during my lifetime. I can only hope that Daunt Books expand this as-yet small collection, and in the meantime, I look forward to reading much more of the publishing house's back catalogue.
If you are a self-confessed foodie, like I am, In the Kitchen will be an incredibly valuable addition to your reading life. I relish books like this, which push me in the directions of different cuisines which I am not as familiar with as I would like to be, recipes which I have not yet tried, and techniques which I have not explored in my cooking. I very much look forward to implementing everything which I have learnt from this excellent collection in my own kitchen.
November 7, 2021
Another lovely collection of essays from Daunt Publishing. This is the second of three books with similar cover art and collecting essays on a wider topic - At the Pond: Swimming at the Hampstead Ladies' Pond being the first and with In the Garden: Essays on Nature and Growing being the latest.
I've not read too much food writing in book form, but I'd describe the style and content as quite relaxed and informal, focusing on the feelings and memories evoked by food and cooking. Favourites included essays by Nina Mingya Powles, Rachel Roddy and Daisy Johnson. If you enjoyed Tiny Moons: A Year of Eating in Shanghai or Crying in H Mart I'd venture that this collection would be up your street too.
I've not read too much food writing in book form, but I'd describe the style and content as quite relaxed and informal, focusing on the feelings and memories evoked by food and cooking. Favourites included essays by Nina Mingya Powles, Rachel Roddy and Daisy Johnson. If you enjoyed Tiny Moons: A Year of Eating in Shanghai or Crying in H Mart I'd venture that this collection would be up your street too.
March 24, 2022
I LOVED THIS!
Special mentions go to:
"Cupboard Love" by Ella Risbridger. Finished it and went right back to the start to immediately read it again. A true romantic in this day and age!
"Our Grief Books" - Mayukh Sen
"Against Roast Chcken: An Hors d'Oeuvres Theory of Cooking" - Rebecca May Johnson
"Tikim Nang Tikim" - Ruby Tandoh
"The Long And Short of the Love Affair that Imploded because of Eccles Cakes, Three-Quarters of a Quiche and Don't-Cut-My-Leg African Chicken" - Yemisí Aríbisálà
"Who Are You When No One Is Watching?" - Joel Golby, "There's hummus on my shed. There's hummus on my shed!"
Special mentions go to:
"Cupboard Love" by Ella Risbridger. Finished it and went right back to the start to immediately read it again. A true romantic in this day and age!
"Our Grief Books" - Mayukh Sen
"Against Roast Chcken: An Hors d'Oeuvres Theory of Cooking" - Rebecca May Johnson
"Tikim Nang Tikim" - Ruby Tandoh
"The Long And Short of the Love Affair that Imploded because of Eccles Cakes, Three-Quarters of a Quiche and Don't-Cut-My-Leg African Chicken" - Yemisí Aríbisálà
"Who Are You When No One Is Watching?" - Joel Golby, "There's hummus on my shed. There's hummus on my shed!"
October 10, 2020
I tried to save this but ended up devouring it. Now I've never been so hungry.
May 23, 2021
lovely little read! joel golby's contribution was my fave :)
August 10, 2025
Not all the essays were equal in this one - but the spirit behind them was strong and memorable.
February 1, 2023
Such a delight! A really excellent collection of essays that made me feel so warm and peaceful. I have a renewed appreciation for cooking and for the objects in my kitchen, like spices and salad bowls and tea bags and bread—and above all, for my stove, which brings all my meals to life, whether they be traditional or experimental, delicious or... decidedly not.
The last essay (by Julia Turshen) was probably the weakest one, but by the time I came to it I had so enjoyed myself in the domestic comforts of this collection that I didn't really mind.
My favourite essays were: "Cupboard Love," "The Future of Food," "Brain Work," "Ritual," "The Long and Short of the Love Affair," and "Who Are You When No One is Looking?" (this last one made me chortle).
P.S. The essay "Against Roast Chicken" made me completely rethink the film Mermaids, which I originally thought was a mediocre 1990's rom-com, but I'm now beginning to think might have been an overlooked feminist classic in disguise.
The last essay (by Julia Turshen) was probably the weakest one, but by the time I came to it I had so enjoyed myself in the domestic comforts of this collection that I didn't really mind.
My favourite essays were: "Cupboard Love," "The Future of Food," "Brain Work," "Ritual," "The Long and Short of the Love Affair," and "Who Are You When No One is Looking?" (this last one made me chortle).
P.S. The essay "Against Roast Chicken" made me completely rethink the film Mermaids, which I originally thought was a mediocre 1990's rom-com, but I'm now beginning to think might have been an overlooked feminist classic in disguise.
February 19, 2021
Had a real craving for something light and digestible and this book definitely hit the spot!
In the kitchen is delightful collection of personal, bite size culinary stories. Each essay reflects on the universal, meaningful connections and experiences that can be had from food -whether that’s through cooking, eating or sharing.
Such as the way with trying a new dish, not every story was to my taste. That said, because of the sheer variety of topics covered, there’s bound to be at least one that’ll tickle your tastebuds!
A stand out for me was Joel Golbys amusing take on buffets -had me in stitches!
On the whole this was a satisfying and comforting read. One to savour and enjoy, full of heart, Warmth and nostalgia.
Though I will warn you, it MUST be accompanied alongside some type of food!
3.5 stars
In the kitchen is delightful collection of personal, bite size culinary stories. Each essay reflects on the universal, meaningful connections and experiences that can be had from food -whether that’s through cooking, eating or sharing.
Such as the way with trying a new dish, not every story was to my taste. That said, because of the sheer variety of topics covered, there’s bound to be at least one that’ll tickle your tastebuds!
A stand out for me was Joel Golbys amusing take on buffets -had me in stitches!
On the whole this was a satisfying and comforting read. One to savour and enjoy, full of heart, Warmth and nostalgia.
Though I will warn you, it MUST be accompanied alongside some type of food!
3.5 stars
January 8, 2021
This collection of essays reminds us of what everyone has rediscovered in this turbulent year the personal but universally sentimental relationship we have with food. This guides us through burnt fingers, first ovens and treasures the mishaps along with the triumphs, the greasy buffet as much as haute cuisine.
September 11, 2025
Erg mid, paar leukies, maar vooral suf en me net te zoetsappig of te ‘quirky’
March 30, 2023
A very sweet book which is honestly pretty moving at several points throughout. Recommended particularly if you love cooking for the people in your life and have strong emotions connected to this
Also the image of the kitchen on the front of the book is maybe my ideal kitchen
Also the image of the kitchen on the front of the book is maybe my ideal kitchen
December 28, 2020
After binging on Richard Yates, it was necessary for myself to recalibrate and return to the kitchen and home as a place of comfort, instead of a warzone. Sure enough, this was just that - well to do writers, going on about their AGA cookers (~$10,000 a pop). This was several notches below another food anthology I had read - A Moveable Feast, and really there was only one cynical essay, harping on about HUEL (human fuel) food powder that stood out. There was one that reviewed an entire movie for some reason (Mermaid, staring CHER) and towards the end, one came perilously close to 'Chicken Soup for the Soul' territory. Garcon! Get me some Anthony Bourdain.
December 14, 2020
Ok. Yemisi Aribisala’s essay made me laugh out loud. Otherwise this was really rather forgettable.
Also, for a collection of essays trying hard to be stamped “diverse” (otherwise the food, as in the buffet chapter, would have been pretty dire), it’s noteworthy that there isn’t any Muslim representation. None at all.
Hmm, they only make up about 26% of the world’s population, and probably more of its foodie population, given that the size zero wannabe thing is usually healthily absent. Food, community, feasts - but no mention here. From Jakarta, to Mombasa, to Istanbul and Marrakesh. Nothing.
Also, for a collection of essays trying hard to be stamped “diverse” (otherwise the food, as in the buffet chapter, would have been pretty dire), it’s noteworthy that there isn’t any Muslim representation. None at all.
Hmm, they only make up about 26% of the world’s population, and probably more of its foodie population, given that the size zero wannabe thing is usually healthily absent. Food, community, feasts - but no mention here. From Jakarta, to Mombasa, to Istanbul and Marrakesh. Nothing.
October 19, 2023
re-sparked my excitement and joy for cooking! can’t wait to get back in the kitchen and COOK FOR HOURS! some essays are waaay better than others but overall i found the collection to touch on many cool topics around cooking, from kitchen intimacy to the relationship between cooking and feminism. would highly recommend!!
October 18, 2020
Found some of the essays to be a lot more enjoyable and evocative than others though I enjoyed the variety of responses to the theme and found a lot of warmth, nostalgia and heart in many of them. Such a great idea for a collection of essays.
November 7, 2021
If I were to describe this book in one word, it would certainly have to be forgettable. It was not bad per se but also there was nothing in particular to capture my attention. All in all, it was a short and sweet read that I don’t regret reading, but also one I know I’ll never go back to.
January 10, 2021
For the food obsessed, this is 90% sublime.
November 22, 2024
"In the kitchen, memories live under the body, just under the skin and under the tongue. Scents and residues from childhood rub off on our hands."
"It's not just foods that have tastes and textures but also certain words and memories."
as someone who finds comfort in watching people making and eating food, it was a pleasure reading all these essays. i loved the sense of familiarity and nostalgia written here. it made me feel like i, too, was in the kitchen with these authors, eating their favorite dishes made by them or their loved ones, and learning all about their past, present, and future.
"It's not just foods that have tastes and textures but also certain words and memories."
as someone who finds comfort in watching people making and eating food, it was a pleasure reading all these essays. i loved the sense of familiarity and nostalgia written here. it made me feel like i, too, was in the kitchen with these authors, eating their favorite dishes made by them or their loved ones, and learning all about their past, present, and future.
April 14, 2025
Ett mysigt koncept med en del intressanta berättelser, men som på det stora hela lämnade mig oberörd. Jag är själv väldigt intresserad av mat och matlagning och funderar mycket på den betydelse det har för oss som individer och som samhälle. Hade därför höga förväntningar på den behållning jag skulle ha av In the Kitchen som kanske spelade in i min besvikelse över att berättelserna aldrig kom riktigt nära. Tyckte att många av essäerna kändes konventionella och sparkade in öppna dörrar. Två essäer som stack ut positivt var dock Who Are You When No One is Watching?" av Joel Golby om bufféer och barndom samt Nina Mingya Powles text Steam om texturer och språk. Också shoutout till Against Roast Chicken, an Hors D’Oeuvres Theory of Cooking som gjorde mig vädligt sugen på att se filmen Mermaids med Cher.
September 25, 2024
An ode to the people that make London worthwhile through the food we shared:
A delayed review, because transitioning to a new full time occupation as student has meant a lot of figuring out a new balance between hobbies and studying. I got this book from Devyani as a parting gift from London. First of all, the book is filled with some of her own handwritten notes attached to passages she loved, which was just such a special new dimension to getting to know her and to commemorate our three years in London together. It made me very reminiscent and want to put some of these feelings into the digital void, so here goes:
This book was a fitting gift because our friendship is to a large extent built on eating and cooking for each other. The magic of moving into student halls as you immigrate to a new country is that you are catapulted into a community of 200+ students from all over the world who all live in the same building, which means easy access to their kitchens, and they, to yours. A large part of that first year in London was spent exploring ourselves, each other, and trying to find a common ground against wildly different backgrounds. The common denominator most of the time? Good food.
For me, food has always been a guaranteed-success move; my way of luring people over and securing their friendship. I am thinking of my poor flatmates who were forced to try various types of hagelslag and spreads with bread (I insisted that was the way for it to be had - much to their dismay). In return, others would share some of the items they brought from home - always followed by large anecdotes so that we could fully understand and appreciate the value of these prized possessions in a country away from home.
Over the years that followed, using food as a way to open up something of ourselves (‘hello this is part of me and where I came from’) and extending it to another (‘I know life in such a big overwhelming city can be hard but by giving you a piece of me, I hope you will feel a bit lighter’) has remained a common thread. As I am writing this, several memories come to mind that feel fitting to share:
- After our first Christmas break in London, my study friends and I agreed to do a ‘bring something back from your country’-night, to introduce each other to food, and with that, what our life looked like before we all came here;
- My amazing friend and flatmate who always insisted on making me a chai according her mothers recipe whenever I was feeling under the weather;
- The iftar potluck that my two friends host each year: everyone always goes all out and the end-result easily well exceeds any luxurious christmas dinner;
- The many many potlucks, some holiday themed (thanksgiving, sinterklaas, christmas, diwali, nowruz), some birthday themed, and some just because;
- My two baking tins that have been borrowed by friends countless times, Molly’s apple bread is a staple at each and every birthday party or potluck I go to
- When one of my closest friends unexpectedly had to move out of the UK, we had a day to clear her freezer. Cooking is her love language and also a love letter to her family-, and London home that I have been lucky to be a part of (as flatmate and friend). Having her amazing food for one last time together, whilst also being confronted that these were all meals saved for a future that suddenly looked very different, was an emotional experience, but I am overwhelmingly thankful we got to do that together;
- My friends spending hours on carefully curated dishes for my leaving dinner parties with them;
- My last evening in London: ad hoc, I asked my closest circle of friends to hang out at tower bridge, where it all started. Towards the end, one of my best friends - to loud applause - arrived with a bag filled to the brim with leftovers from another birthday she had just come from. At the end of the night, she left with the newly acquired leftovers for another birthday party and my old picnic blanket that I got from another friend who left London after a year.
I remember thinking of the picnic blanket in that moment as a nice metaphor for the mark we leave on a place we have made our own: when I acquired the blanket, it had already seen many friendships unfold over potlucks and picnics in the London summers that I thought back fondly on whenever I used it. Even though my friend left town, his legacy of friendship still remains and this blanket continued creating memories in my ownership. I find a lot of comfort in the thought that with my other friend, our friendship will remain alive in the future meals and love that are going to be shared on this piece of cloth.
A lot of heartbreak was felt over leaving my London life and starting (or at least trying to start) a new one here in Amsterdam. Knowing that there will always be a piece of me in London in the people I love, and a piece of them in me, is of comfort at least. May our friendship always come to life in some of the dishes and culinary memories we have shared.
Yesterday I got a text from my friend, it is a picture of Pav Bhaji, a dish she made for my birthday. It is accompanied by the text: ‘exactly you came to mind’. :)
A delayed review, because transitioning to a new full time occupation as student has meant a lot of figuring out a new balance between hobbies and studying. I got this book from Devyani as a parting gift from London. First of all, the book is filled with some of her own handwritten notes attached to passages she loved, which was just such a special new dimension to getting to know her and to commemorate our three years in London together. It made me very reminiscent and want to put some of these feelings into the digital void, so here goes:
This book was a fitting gift because our friendship is to a large extent built on eating and cooking for each other. The magic of moving into student halls as you immigrate to a new country is that you are catapulted into a community of 200+ students from all over the world who all live in the same building, which means easy access to their kitchens, and they, to yours. A large part of that first year in London was spent exploring ourselves, each other, and trying to find a common ground against wildly different backgrounds. The common denominator most of the time? Good food.
For me, food has always been a guaranteed-success move; my way of luring people over and securing their friendship. I am thinking of my poor flatmates who were forced to try various types of hagelslag and spreads with bread (I insisted that was the way for it to be had - much to their dismay). In return, others would share some of the items they brought from home - always followed by large anecdotes so that we could fully understand and appreciate the value of these prized possessions in a country away from home.
Over the years that followed, using food as a way to open up something of ourselves (‘hello this is part of me and where I came from’) and extending it to another (‘I know life in such a big overwhelming city can be hard but by giving you a piece of me, I hope you will feel a bit lighter’) has remained a common thread. As I am writing this, several memories come to mind that feel fitting to share:
- After our first Christmas break in London, my study friends and I agreed to do a ‘bring something back from your country’-night, to introduce each other to food, and with that, what our life looked like before we all came here;
- My amazing friend and flatmate who always insisted on making me a chai according her mothers recipe whenever I was feeling under the weather;
- The iftar potluck that my two friends host each year: everyone always goes all out and the end-result easily well exceeds any luxurious christmas dinner;
- The many many potlucks, some holiday themed (thanksgiving, sinterklaas, christmas, diwali, nowruz), some birthday themed, and some just because;
- My two baking tins that have been borrowed by friends countless times, Molly’s apple bread is a staple at each and every birthday party or potluck I go to
- When one of my closest friends unexpectedly had to move out of the UK, we had a day to clear her freezer. Cooking is her love language and also a love letter to her family-, and London home that I have been lucky to be a part of (as flatmate and friend). Having her amazing food for one last time together, whilst also being confronted that these were all meals saved for a future that suddenly looked very different, was an emotional experience, but I am overwhelmingly thankful we got to do that together;
- My friends spending hours on carefully curated dishes for my leaving dinner parties with them;
- My last evening in London: ad hoc, I asked my closest circle of friends to hang out at tower bridge, where it all started. Towards the end, one of my best friends - to loud applause - arrived with a bag filled to the brim with leftovers from another birthday she had just come from. At the end of the night, she left with the newly acquired leftovers for another birthday party and my old picnic blanket that I got from another friend who left London after a year.
I remember thinking of the picnic blanket in that moment as a nice metaphor for the mark we leave on a place we have made our own: when I acquired the blanket, it had already seen many friendships unfold over potlucks and picnics in the London summers that I thought back fondly on whenever I used it. Even though my friend left town, his legacy of friendship still remains and this blanket continued creating memories in my ownership. I find a lot of comfort in the thought that with my other friend, our friendship will remain alive in the future meals and love that are going to be shared on this piece of cloth.
A lot of heartbreak was felt over leaving my London life and starting (or at least trying to start) a new one here in Amsterdam. Knowing that there will always be a piece of me in London in the people I love, and a piece of them in me, is of comfort at least. May our friendship always come to life in some of the dishes and culinary memories we have shared.
Yesterday I got a text from my friend, it is a picture of Pav Bhaji, a dish she made for my birthday. It is accompanied by the text: ‘exactly you came to mind’. :)
March 12, 2024
this is the first book i have finished in over a month rip…. 3-3.5/5 idk
September 24, 2023
Oops, I read this in one sitting on a Sunday morning in bed drinking coffee. Beautiful, and I wish there was more of it.
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