Nic
Nic works in sales for a multinational company.
His wife Mel died in 2023.
After Nic’s wife, Mel, died in 2023, he wrote and illustrated a book of favourite recipes.
“The first weekend Mel came to mine, I was flambéing something - obviously I wanted to impress her - and afterwards she told me that’s when she knew she was going to marry me.
We were both foodies. We loved eating out. And Friday nights were always special - we’d make an effort to sit down at the table, have a proper meal. I’m not a chef in the trained sense, but Mel really encouraged me. She gave me the confidence to have a go.
I think we all have an emotional connection with food. It gives you a sense of people and place. Those things we remember from childhood - often it’s all tied up with food.
Mel took as much pleasure from a posh fishfinger sandwich with goujons and tartare sauce in ciabatta as she did from a Birdseye fishfinger in plastic bread and cheese. She loved iced buns from the bakery and fancy French patisseries. She loved dirty treats.
She always spoke about taking joy in everyday things. That’s what I’ve tried to capture, to remember.
After a funeral, everything gets quieter. You go back to work. You have a lot of evenings on your own. That’s just the reality of it.
Afterwards, I found a book a friend had given me. It was embossed on the front with ‘Recipes by Nic’.
I don’t watch much television - I don’t find it a very fulfilling solitary pursuit - but this was something I could do on my own. I’d sit in the kitchen listening to the radio and I’d forget the time. Suddenly it’d be 2am and I’d be going, ‘Oh shit’.
Sometimes when I’ve been doing it, I’ve been thinking about Mel, but I’ve been thinking about her taking joy in something. That’s been really nice. It’s been good for me to get those things out.
It didn’t feel like a big, heavy thing. But it’s given me an outlet; a bit more purpose.
Grief isn’t linear. People move through it at different speeds. You can’t say it’s going to be a certain way - it’s all so fluid.
For some of Mel’s friends, it’s still incredibly raw. Maybe because they’re not living it so intensely every day like I am, but when they see me it brings it home
I want to stay connected with them. I’ve made a conscious effort to get together with these people so they don’t just become those acquaintances you send a Christmas card to.
It’ll be good to get this to a place where I can share it. It’s almost there. I’ve shown it to some friends who are illustrators. They’ve been really helpful and encouraging. They’re going to help me digitise it when the time comes.
I want it to be soon. Maybe it sounds strange, but I do feel there’s a bit of a timeline on it. I don’t know if I want this project to last forever.
“It didn’t feel like a big, heavy thing.
But it’s given me an outlet; a bit more purpose. ”
When I first started the book, this was going to be my draft. I was going to re-do it on plain paper. But now that doesn’t feel like the right thing to do.
I look at some bits now and think, ‘Oh, that’s a shame’ or ‘That took me a long time but I do like it.’
But generally, I’m really proud of it. The cookbooks I love have a lot of emotion in them; they show you a messy plate. So the odd stupid mistake, the straight line that’s not straight - I think that’s part of its charm. It’s a one-off.
It’s become as much about me as it’s about Mel. Yes, she loved these recipes, but now they’re things I cook when friends come round.
They’re very much part of my repertoire. It’s all intertwined.
I know that I’m going to find new recipes. I’m going to have more wonderful meals with friends. My love of cooking and hosting and doing things with other people - it all continues.
I’ve been so lucky. I have so many positive memories. I feel genuinely privileged to have experienced everything we did together.
I look back and think ‘That was amazing.’ But I hope my future is going to be as well. ”