Come on into my kitchen. Let’s cook!

Take a look around. One wooden kitchen island with a small dog perched on it. Tilt your glance to the right, and nestled in a corner is a baker’s rack where rows and rows of lentils sit hugging one another. Turn the corner at 3 o’clock and there’s Umbu sunning herself on the window ledge, oblivious to the pods of garlic dangling precariously over her head. Right again, at 6’o clock and stretching out lazily into the distance are long shelves with 20, 25, 30……hmmmm well lets just say oodles and oodles of spice bottles. Pan down, but slowly and gently, lest you bump into a small head, all black hair and furrowed brow, swapping labels on the bottles with deadly concentration. Right again at 9 o’clock and that’s me, ladle in hand, waiting for you to join me. Come on in. Take a seat at the counter or join me near the stove. Let’s start cooking. Just be careful! Cardamoms are now cloves and cumin has traded places with coriander.