A tour of guest editor Jeremy Lee’s home
Home is in Hackney, where I have lived since 1998. High ceilings and huge windows, looking out on vast East End skies, have kept me there ever since. Over time, the shelves have become a somewhat unruly jumble of books, pots, jugs, pans and my continuing inability to walk past a pestle and mortar without bringing it to sit alongside others gathered over time.
To accompany my thirst for coffee is a great fondness for coffee pots. Made for the stove, these coffee pots are an ingenious feat of handsome engineering and lovely design that have never lost their allure. Even as a child I was enthralled watching Mum brew pots in our kitchen at home in Scotland, having bought beans to grind fresh from Mr Braithwaite’s shop in Dundee.
The cupboard at home that serves as a pantry always has anchovies, olives, sardines, tomatoes – vital for impromptu suppers.
As I am unable to resist a jug, pot or bowl – so fond am I of their shapes and colour, in particular those made with glazed earthenware – the shelves are becoming quite crammed, and that little bit unwieldy, which adds to the chaos.
The dining table sits before the shelves without any order whatsoever, crammed with cookery books, journals, jottings and all sorts spilling over onto stools and tables around.
The table, no matter how often it is cleared, seems to fill at a ludicrous pace. ’Tis a messy affair.
I love the colours of enamelled pots and, though they are jumbled holus-bolus in the kitchen, find their jolly presence essential to greet the day.
Yes, a whole table of pestles and mortars. They need their own spot because they weigh so much, or some of them do anyway. These ancient wonders for grinding spices and nuts are as pleasing to the eye as they are to use.
Jugs and pots even make it to my desk, which is a lovely old table bought from a friend. It houses my garden within as I live two floors up, and can’t even have a window box, ha ha. So I tend these plants, which seem to be rather content looking out of the window. So cheery.
This article is taken from Port issue 34. To continue reading, buy the issue or subscribe here
