I smiled the smile of a fool who had just realised his folly as I put the phone down. I had just invited twenty members of my extended family to our pad for lunch, uncles, aunts and cousins, all of which are tremendous cooks. I grew up on their wonderful creations, taking for granted the beauty of the food I had happily demolished for the past few decades. As far back as I can remember I had feasted on Auntie Lorena’s biryani, Uncle Lawrie’s korma, his older brother Albert’s kebabs and the youngest, Uncle Stan’s patties. Memories of sweet and sour chutneys, piping hot chapattis, gut busting parathas and lip licking halva had been seared into my foodie recall.