The sky is a consistent, conscientious grey — it turns up for hours on end, then quietly disappears, replaced by a hard-working moon that only shows its face for a few days every 28. The trees can’t be bothered to grow their own leaves, the rain never seems to stop, and I’m genuinely considering building my own ark. Everything feels like effort.
Getting up feels like effort. Cooking feels like effort. Even deciding what to eat feels like effort — and that’s saying something coming from a chef.
But then, this morning, there was a small glimmer of hope.
I saw my first daffodils.
The first daffodils are starting to bloom (Image: Pixabay)
Just a tiny dot of yellow, pushing through the gloom, but it looked outrageously bright against the endless grey I’ve been staring at for weeks. It stopped me in my tracks for a moment. A quiet reminder that the seasons are still turning, even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.
And suddenly my appetite came back.
Adam is craving colourful salads (Image: Pexels)
I’m craving colour — proper, unapologetic colour. Roasted peppers blistered on the barbecue, sticky pork so good you end up licking your fingers clean without a shred of shame. Big bowls of salad — not the sad winter kind, but the good stuff: crunch, freshness, sharp dressings, deep greens, flashes of red and yellow. Texture, taste, life.
Food does that. It reminds us that better days are coming.
So while the sky might still be grey, and the rain might not be finished with us just yet, those daffodils know something we don’t. Spring is warming up in the wings — and when it arrives, I’ll be ready, barbecue lit, salad bowl waiting, colours back on the plate where they belong.
Adam Duebel is head chef at the Utilita Bowl (Image: Submitted)
