When I left France as a young student aged twenty to go to London in order to better my English, it is fair to say that cooking was not a skill in my bag. I knew about two or three recipes at most, pancakes being the main one, and of course I knew how to open a packet of ham, slice open a baguette, butter it, slice some tomatoes and a Brie, season the whole lot and 'et voilà' I had a sandwich on the go for lunch, then jazzing up some pasta would do in the evening. My Mum, who did all the cooking in my youth, slaving by the stove, gave me a parting present: a cookery book larger than the bible saying simply that I may find this handy. Hoping for a better present, at that time a game boy game of some sort or the latest novel, disappointed, I vowed not to open the book. But with my cooking skill being virtually nil, being on a student budget which didn't allow many Take Away, finding out that beans on toast can make you fart in the worst places like pick hour in a congested tube, I reluctantly opened that cookery bible two weeks later. From then on, it was a learning curve when a succesful 'gratin dauphinois' made you suddenly the best 'Chef' in the house. I grabbed the cooking bug taking it as a necessary skill which I could not be without. But I see cooking as a pleasure, being a foodie. I enjoy that time spent in the kitchen baking muffins while watching TV and sipping a glass of wine. For me cooking is all about love and sharing the love and care on a plate.