My Story

My name is Meredith Birrell. I was raised in the foothills of the Blue Mountains west of Sydney, the stunning, heritage-listed national park home to ancient plateaus, deep green gullies, and endless blue vistas. It's the kind of place that gets into your bones, and the crackle of dry bark and leaves underfoot while walking in the bush, or the pterodactyl screech of cockatoos sweeping through the valleys at twilight, will always remind me of home. I have returned to the mountains with my husband and little girl, after spending the bulk of my adult life in and around Sydney, interspersed with the occasional bit of travel, though I still hanker for more. Until now, I have been mostly involved in the artworld, studying art history, then painting, and recently, completing a PhD in contemporary art theory. I've worked in galleries, for arts organisations, and in a remote Indigenous art centre. Yet over the past few years, I've been increasingly drawn to the world of food. I've always loved cooking, and most especially, sharing that passion with family and friends. However, it wasn't until I discovered the rich and varied world of food blogging that it occurred to me I might be able to pivot this passion from a purely personal one to something that could be more widely shared. Since having my daughter, Ingrid Annabel, in May 2018, the urge to create a living archive of recipes that I can one day pass down to her has become my driving passion. ​

Underneath this passion lies an even deeper need. More than a collection of recipes, this blog is also about the search for a food culture. I don’t mean in some cohesive, label-wielding way, but in the sense that I need, for reasons I don’t perhaps fully understand, to find some kind of meaningful footing in this world, and cooking is where I feel most anchored, most at rest. The art of cooking has always given me solace of both the physical and metaphysical kind. It is, actually, what binds us to the earth, to the seasons, to each other, and to a sense of place. Yet I’ve always struggled to know where my place is, and so I keep searching for it in the alchemical magic of mayonnaise, the heat of Australian pepperberry, and the fragrance of kaffir lime. For all of these, and more, are part of my ‘food story.’ It’s a confused mix of cultures stolen and borrowed, inspiration from everywhere, and some hazy stories about my grandmother’s mince pies and pressure-cooked everything. In other words, while I can, and do, freely borrow from any number of sources, there has always been a sense of rootlessness, a vagueness around food that bothers me. I want to put down some culinary roots, to weave some narratives around the kitchen table, and to give my daughter a food culture that she can grow with and adapt to her own life, perhaps passing down knowledge to any children she may have one day. This living culture will, I hope, give my daughter and I some sense that what we eat binds us to a past, a present and a future, to our ancestors and descendants, and a place we can call our own, wherever that may be.

The Daughter's Table is for my daughter, Ingrid, a place where I can record what we eat and why. Here, I celebrate home cooking, the simple, accessible, and family-friendly cooking I think we all need on a daily basis! I embrace a wholistic approach to food, which is to say, I believe there is room for everything in a balanced diet, from plant-forward meals to the occasional indulgent treat. Eating well for your body goes hand in hand with eating sustainably for the planet, and with the welfare of animals and the natural rhythm of the seasons at the forefront of your mind. This blog is as much a journey for me as I continue to learn the best way to eat for myself, my family, and for the earth. Not only do I want to pass on a collection of recipes to my daughter, but also a way of eating that is good for our bodies, our communities, and the planet. Welcome to our table; my daughter's table. ​​​