I’ve always been into food – and I sort of forget sometimes. Because food was so prominent in my household: my dad’s Kurdish, my mum’s Czech, but my mum spent 15 years living in Baghdad before I was born, so she’s an expert on both sides. She’d always be cooking: a simpler dish would be a goulash with dumplings, or, from the Kurdish side, a lamb stew either with okra or potatoes or beans. I was spoiled.
I used to be a little bit ashamed of being a foreigner and not feeling like everyone else. When my friends were coming over, I’d be like: “Don’t show them sauerkraut, they’ll think it’s weird.” Trying to get the pizzas out of the freezer so they couldn’t see – in my mind – the strange foreign food. And I smoked lots of weed, so I just wanted to eat pizzas and frankfurters, like freezer meals and shit.
