Me with my mum, Susie.

The little girl on the left is me.

The woman rocking the electric pink t-shirt and bangs on the right, is my mum, Susie.

The photo was probably taken when I was around three or four years old. We’re planting something in the veggie garden at home – probably carrots – back in the day when veggie patches were less designer wooden boxes and more just a pile of dirt in the ground.

I love this photo. Mostly because it represents everything my childhood was about – love, food and quality time with my mama.

Mum is a cook by trade. And a bloody good one at that. You remember that chef who used to go around snooping through people’s trolley at the supermarket, then go home to their kitchens and somehow be able to create something incredible using three green beans, a slice of ham and a can of spaghetti? Mum’s like that when it comes to the kitchen fridge. Give her four random ingredients and she’ll whip something up that’s worthy of a

Michelin

Star.

When I was growing up, there was always something boiling on the stove or baking in the oven. A chicken pie. A batch of scones. Soup to get the entire family through the week. I remember spending hours sitting on the kitchen bench, eating the corners off a block of cheese and just talking to mum as she brought together whatever delicious creation was on the menu that day.

So who would have guessed that that little girl – the one who gardened with her mum and could rattle off the ingredients needed for a white sauce at the age of 10 – would have grown up to eat cereal for dinner at least five nights a week?

Yes, cereal for dinner. Why? So many reasons. It was delicious, cheap, required no brain power or time to prepare AND only left me with one bowl and one spoon to clean.

To my 20-something self living out of home for the first time, cereal as a meal replacement was genius. But to my mother – my mother who had tried so hard to teach me to love and appreciate good food – I can only imagine it was a little heartbreaking.

For three or four years it went on. But the good news for mum (and me!) is that something clicked recently and I’ve suddenly become that daughter she had probably hoped for.

It’s taken me until the age of 27 to finally appreciate food and cooking for other people. I don’t know what it was (perhaps becoming – dare I say it – an adult?) but seriously, slow cooking is like my crack at the moment and anything that involves a mortar and pestle makes my heart dance a happy beat. Cooking’s become that thing I rush home to do every night and it’s a reason – rather than an excuse – to gather my mates together.

And look, I do burn things sometimes. But I’m lucky my favourite cook isn’t far away whenever I need a hand.

Someone once told me that you should aim to learn one new recipe a month. And yes, you might stuff it up occasionally and have to start again. But after one year, the idea is that you’ll have 12 new recipes up your sleeve. And after a few years? You’ll basically be a walking/talking version of Stephanie Alexander’s Kitchen Bible.

So without further ado, here’s one recipe to try this month. It’s a beetroot hummus dip my mum makes often as a nibble for dinner parties. I love it because it’s delicious and (as you’ll see from the ingredient list below, healthy too). Anyway, she taught me how to make it a couple of weeks ago and I took a few snaps so that I could share the advice with you.

Then …

Gather all ingredients.

Put all the ingredients in a food processor. Just like this.

And this.

Then wizz it all together. Like this.

And serve in something pretty. Like this.

Yes. It is absolutely that simple.

So what are you waiting for?

What’s your favourite recipe that you got from your mum?