The writer who bakes
I am not a professional chef but food has always such a large part of what connected my family to each other — the conversations we had around the dinner table where some of the best — and to Denmark: our memories, culture, and language were so shaped by the country my family immigrated from and the best way we kept that alive was the food we shared.
My kitchen is one where the backsplash is perpetually spattered, the counters are nicked from that time I thought I didn’t need to use a cutting board, there are crumbs on the floor, and the only professional pictures are those hanging on the walls.
But it’s still my favourite place to be.
Growing up, my mom’s shopping lists were always a written in a random mix of Danish and English, recipes where in both cups and grams and —while I wasn’t always a fan of rye bread in my lunch kit—the bread was always fresh and home-made. The kitchen is where some of my best memories where made, and it was one of the best ways that my parents kept Danish culture alive in my family after we immigrated to Canada. Now that I am the one that has moved away from my family and back to Denmark, this blog is my way to cook with my friends and let my family into my kitchen even when there is an ocean between us.