That’s not an exaggeration.

Sure, I love my whole kitchen, but the pantry…. the pantry is where the food is. Yes there is food in my fridge too, but I can’t physically stand inside my fridge now can I? My husband also interacts more with the fridge which means the organisation and aesthetics isn’t always up to requisite endorphin-producing levels.

The pantry, on the other hand, has it all. It even has mood lighting. It lets me hang out as long as I like without beeping judgmentally. I stand in my pantry admiring the crisply labelled containers and my mind is bright with possibility.

Let’s take a tour…

There’s a shelf of flours: am in the mood to make bread? (Usually, yes). Perhaps pasta? Kneading is always good for catharsis. There’s a tub of organic wholemeal flour that reminds me Frank Jr, my sourdough starter, hasn’t been fed in months. The self-raising flour jar is conspicuously empty after a recent infestation that still leaves me shuddering to think about. I haven’t been able to bring myself to buy a fresh bag until I know I need it. But it’s also been pointed out to me that self-raising flour is a curiously Australian obsession (like the 20mL tablespoon) so most recipes these days call for plain flour with rising agents added separately anyway. It’s possible my self-raising flour jar is now obsolete.

My second favourite section is two tubs of flavourings, side by side. Perhaps I could make a rich, creamy mushroom soup with that porcini powder, with glistening drops of truffle oil to finish. Or drizzle sticky pomegranate molasses over roast root vegetables. There’s also the black limes, dried barberries, dried sour cherries and a 1kg bag of za’atar I’ve stocked up on since getting more and more consumed with Middle Eastern flavours, particularly in the form of Palestinian cooking. Then there’s that container of angel hair chilli I bought after a family trip to the Hunter Valley… I’ve never quite figured out what to do with that chilli. If you have ideas, please let me know.

The line-up of sugars is surprisingly comprehensive for someone who claims to prefer savoury over sweet. My pantry is stocked with bog standard raw, white, caster, icing and brown sugars. But I also keep demerara sugar (sometimes things just need a crunch) as well as pearl sugar. These last two are used almost exclusively for my breadmaking, which really should tell you everything you need to know about me. I clearly haven’t bought into the sugar-is-poison trend, so I’m steering clear of your coconut and rapadura sugars and the like. My golden syrup sits proudly beside my sugars undeterred by the rise of agave nectar.

My tiered preserve and condiment stands are a thing of beauty. Three varieties of honey stand as if on an Olympic podium, with Hum Honey cold-infused lavender honey at the peak with the gold. Biscoff crunchy speculoos spread, tahini, and Nutella bookend the nut butters with two types of peanut (crunchy and ‘smunchy’), macadamia, and pistachio all represented. And then the jams. Did I mention I prefer savoury? It beggars belief how one woman can continue to buy jams knowing she has at least 10 unopened jars at home (and 5 opened ones too). In my defence, whenever I travel I seem to come up against discoveries like small batch rose petal jam, strawberry and chilli jam, and pumpkin pie jam… so can you blame me?

Of course, I can’t neglect to mention my pantry staples. The workhorses of the group. My rices. My dried pastas and noodles. My whole grains. I love starchy carbs like it’s nobody’s business, and they love me back. Whichever Masterchef judge blighted risotto with the offensive label ‘death dish’ should eat in my house. Or, you know, travel to Italy. Oozy, creamy risotto is my all-time comfort cooking food favourite, though with a nine-month-old clamouring around my ankles I don’t have much time these days for therapeutic cooking. So I’ve been exploring other grains: freekeh, maftoul, moghrabieh (yes, these are all, once again, Middle Eastern). But also barley, buckwheat and bulgur. Which I’ve only just noticed all start with ‘b’.

And finally, the section I pay the least attention to is the one my husband frequents: the snacks, processed and pre-packaged foods. Here you’ll find an array of chocolate biscuits (his), artificially flavoured and coloured rice crackers (mine), tins of chocolate-spiral-filled wafer straws (his), salted and spiced nuts (mine), gummy lollies (his), muesli fruit ‘protein’ bars (mine), and Triple Butter Explosion microwave popcorn (both of ours). The bright colours are an assault on my senses that besmirches the beauty of my storage solutions, and the pervasive plastic packaging frustrates me to no end… but when running out the door for an appointment with baby in tow, you can’t beat the convenience of a single serve protein bar packed with nuts, seeds, nut butter and sweetness. Sometimes my palate craves the salty, chalky, umami of fake orange cheese powder. And who doesn’t love a handful of sweet and salty, crisp coated peanuts snuck while cooking dinner? Returning to chopping vegetables after brushing off the sugar and salt on your pants. Or your laptop keyboard…