Home food is comfort food. There is no other place I would rather be, and no other place I would rather eat in. I didn’t cook as a child growing up in Ukraine, but I ate very well because my mother, Olga, my father, Petro, and my extended family were so excellent at it. It was only when I left my family and ended up a student in the UK that I was suddenly drawn to cooking. When phone conversations failed to satisfy my longing for comfort, home and love, making my mum’s food succeeded. Suddenly, whenever I cooked, those early-wired neurons in my brain fired up very specific feelings: feelings of wellbeing.
