A while ago a man brought in an essay he had written about mushroom hunting. He often came for lunch with his wife or family and had noticed online that I had been out foraging for mushrooms, and wanted to pass on his knowledge. Jimmy has been collecting mushrooms in the Northeast and Scotland for years, plotting locations, documenting and photographing types he found, and recording tips on taste and cooking. He wrote an essay ‘Mushrooms: Northumberland and East of Scotland’ and gave a copy to his children and a copy to me, accompanied by a big bag of chanterelles. I felt quite emotional.
I’m not sure how or why it came about, but people like to bring me things at Cook House. I enjoy this, not just because I’m on the receiving end of gifts but because I’ve unwittingly created a place where people feel they can. I can’t think of a restaurant where I would take gifts with me. It’s heart-warming that the ‘house’ aspect of what I always envisioned has resulted in people wanting to make these small gestures.
Ever since my very first supper club, the format has always allowed people to chat about food, ideas and recipes; to ask how I made something or tell me about something they have cooked recently. It has always been the nature of the spaces I have chosen to work in and one of my favourite things about my working day.
Working in London taught me many things about how to organize myself and how to run a kitchen, but most importantly it taught me that I never wanted the kitchen to be hidden away from the customers. A situation where you are unable to say thank you to the person who has cooked for you just seems wrong to me.
The open set-up at Cook House where you are actually in my kitchen when you come for something to eat has brought about a different behaviour entirely, and one that I love.
Another man brought me an essay he had copied from the library archives about the history of my street and surrounding area. I’ve had gifts of redcurrants, pears, tomato plants brought back from Romania, herb plants, books, baskets of mushrooms, huge boughs of fresh bay; often things that people have grown and want to share. I’ve even been given a giant barbecue… although I think I’m meant to return that one at some point.
I noticed a lady sketching her family over lunch one day and a week or so later I came across the picture online as she had tagged Cook House. A few weeks later a beautiful print of her sketch arrived in the post – you can find it on the wall at Cook House. It’s these little things that make you feel good about the world.
Over the past few years I have learnt that it is important not to stray too far from the idea of serving friends and family in your own home. People feel part of something, they feel welcome; and they bring gifts!