The Epicure Collective

Some of my earliest memories involve food. I remember my mum patiently supervising 5-year-old me while I learnt to cut vegetables and hold a whisk; eating olives from the jar; sneaking out of bed on Christmas morning to make my family hot chocolate. I had a curiosity around food that was nurtured by my parents who would take me to food markets and prop me up on stools with chopsticks to sample the flavours of different countries.

Over time, my interest in food grew into a complementary love of travel as my mum would captivate me with stories of her travels around the world and the food she ate. One especially vivid story that has transcended her ability to tell it was of the street food in Turkey; peeled cucumbers heaped on street carts, sprinkled with salt. She took me to foreign countries and sparked my curiosity, my hunger, for more.

Taste has formed a major connection with my memory. They are two peas in a pod. If I’m asked to recall a certain time, place, or event, I will usually be able to recall what I was eating on that occasion. It is as though taste is the anchor for the blur of experiences in my subconscious.

My connection with food is more than just basic survival. I crave fresh experiences and new tastes, just as I crave that gelato I had in Italy in 2014. Food is love and culture and expression. It is creative and frustrating and satisfying. It is memory and it is identity.

Finally, I can say it is a hobby.