The Cook

The Cook

I'm a thirty something Mum of three gorgeous girls aged five and under, also known as The Food Critics. Food in our house needs to be child friendly without being so bland that my husband (also known as The Chef) and I don't fall asleep at the table. It needs to be fast so that the dulcet tones of whinging don't make my ears bleed. It has to be easy so that I don't have to claim on my home insurance because I've burnt the house down. Last, but definitely not least, there needs to be minimal washing up because I'd rather gnaw off my own arm than spend my quiet time washing dishes. I spend my time chasing after my three girls, sewing when I have the chance and dreaming of Hawaii.

The Chef

The Chef is more interested in fancy pants cooking when he's away from his day job. He's confident when it comes to cooking something a bit more special, despite the fact that, in our early dating days, he set one of my mother's new and expensive saucepans on fire. He then proceeded to put it out on one of the plants that were happily minding their own business at the entrance to her house. On the bright side, he doesn't mind washing up. I knew there was a reason I married him.