Growing up in Los Angeles, my culinary upbringing was full of new and exciting tastes. No amount of freeway traffic could deter my family from caravanning to a restaurant that specialised in some obscure regional dish. When I told them I was moving to London they were more concerned about my culinary options than about my living 5,000 miles away. To be fair, I was concerned too.
Before moving to the UK I had spent a year in Paris revelling in my access to gorgeous produce and perfect baked goods while I conducted master’s research into the sociopolitical relationships between food and identity. When my husband got a job in London I was excited to explore a new city but, based on my knowledge of British food, not so excited about my culinary options. Chip butties? Stargazy pie? Jellied eels?! It seemed to me that the country’s gastronomic creativity hadn’t evolved since wartime rationing.
When I’d had enough of using my new degree in an office job, I went back to kitchen work where I cooked with chefs who had their own interpretations of what British cuisine looked like, such as Kin author Marie Mitchell, whose Jamaican heritage is integral to her culinary inspiration. The menu we put together at the restaurant I now work at is a reflection of this kind of “British” food, one that sees nostalgic tradition as a format to play with to create something new. Dishes like our makhani fried chicken burger or the crème brûlée cookie are fun riffs on familiar classics.