Editor’s Letter
I have a love/hate relationship with cooking. As I write this, I’m parked up at my kitchen bench thanks to Auckland’s level 4 Covid restrictions. I’ve done yet another load of dishes following the breakfast shift and soon there will be a chorus call of, “What’s for lunch?” In the back of my mind, I’m thinking about what’s in the fridge for tonight’s meal, wondering if I can get away with serving up mince again! These are not cooking moments that spark joy. But every so often, I glance out of my French doors into the backyard. I focus my stare on the big wooden outdoor table, which once resided at my parents’ house. It’s weathered, the timber long past its prime. Its surface carries the scars of more than…