Out of all of the cooking lessons I had from a young age from my parents, I have always believed my most essential one, was chicken! To ask any family member about me as a child, most if not all would have a story of holding a drumstick for me while I nibbled away because as much as I love chicken , I hate the smell on me. The best chicken my mom would make me would be stewed or baked, and that brown colour just confirmed the perfection that waited for me (as soon as someone helped me out with the holding issue).

What made it so special? Besides my obvious natural obsession as a “meat mout”, it was the combination of taste and presentation that made it my go-to food from then, and still my favourite today.

Yet my first solo attempt at chicken without my parents’ help besides setting the stove for me, did not live up to my expectations. There I was, confusion on my face as I presented the “stewed” colourless chicken to my mother to eat (and bless her heart she did). Something had obviously gone wrong, but what?

Stubbornness is as stubbornness does and I placed the chicken at the back of my culinary goals and continued with my lessons, pretending that I could still boast that the Colonel didn’t know chicken like me. That is until, one day after school, I watched as my mom poured something from a bottle into the chicken, mixed it and it began turning a darker colour. It was this point in history, I discovered Browning (insert angels singing here). As I stood watching this forbidden magic, I knew I had found the missing piece of my puzzle …caramel colouring.

Hundreds of chickens later, stewed chicken became a recipe I could do with my eyes closed while at secondary school. Until the day…we had no browning in the house. It was time for another lesson – doing it old school with burnt sugar and now, definitely the way I prefer it.