HEART BAKE
I grew up in the country and my earliest memory is making jam drops with my grandmother. It was my job to do the thumbprints and then to scoop out the jam. Nanny likes to say I put more batter in my mouth than I did the cookies.
Growing up, food wasn’t anything to me but a means to survive. My mum was the breadwinner in our family and my stepdad was a stay-at-home mum for us. It’s horrific to remember now, but when we came home he would ask us what we’d want to eat: I’d say pesto pasta, Mum would say meat and three veg and my brother would say tacos. And he would make us three different meals! He wasn’t a demonstrative person whereas we very much were. I now realise that cooking was his way of
