There’s something about cooking that makes me feel less crazy. When I’m somewhere new and unfamiliar, whether physically or emotionally, cooking calms me. When I feel lonely or depressed, obsessing over sourcing obscure ingredients gives me a sense of purpose.
Somebody once told me that when you move house, you should put butter on a cat’s paws before you let it outside. Once it licks the butter off it will continue to clean itself, and by the time it’s done it will feel at home. It doesn’t strike me as terribly scientific, but that’s how I feel about being in the kitchen.
Writing a food blog is something I’ve vaguely fantasized about doing for a long while, but as a newly-transplanted Australian in New York, now seems as good a time as any to get some butter on these paws.
