It was about 20 years ago that I downed tools on the cooking front — I’d simply stopped taking any real pleasure in it. And, if I’m brutally honest, I haven’t ever really missed it since.

I wasn’t always like this: I used to love the whole performance, the creative nature of cooking, the small, quotidian miracles whipped up with eggs and flour, fats and heat. When I worked in restaurants front of house, I fancied being at the sharp end of things away from the infuriating demands (“Can I have the ratatouille with no peppers?”, “Is the bolognese vegetarian?”). Making the dishes rather than simply delivering them seemed more satisfying and I was pretty confident I could do the job better than some of

Marina O’Loughlin rediscovered the joys of home cooking in lockdown. Will she keep it up? | The Sunday Times Magazine

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