Austria to Sussex, with plenty of flavour in between.

A childhood of contrasts.

I grew up in Austria, surrounded by food that was both beautifully made and unapologetically substantial. The classics are comforting—schnitzel, roasts, dumplings, potatoes, rich cakes—but authentic Austrian cooking rarely tiptoes onto the plate. It arrives properly, and usually expects you to have worked up an appetite.

I was a particular eater as a child. I liked foods separately, saved my favourite part until last and could happily have lived on potatoes and strawberries. Yet even before I became adventurous, I was interested in how food was arranged, prepared and transformed. That slightly stubborn attention to detail never really left; it simply became more useful once I started cooking.

Then came the Naschmarkt.

Vienna’s Naschmarkt showed me a completely different rhythm of food. There were mounds of spices, unfamiliar vegetables, olives, cheeses, Turkish and Middle Eastern ingredients, market traders calling across the stalls and the constant movement of people buying, tasting and talking. Food there was not confined to one national tradition—it was colourful, international and alive.

I later worked in a café on the market. Before the day began, we might sit on crates eating pastrami omelettes, feta and olives. The café was known for an exotic marinated-chicken salad with avocado and Austrian pumpkin-seed oil, while the surrounding stalls offered a daily education in ingredients. Those mornings did more than teach me dishes: they showed me how naturally different food cultures can share the same table.

A wider world of flavour.

Travel kept expanding that idea. Greece gave me a lasting love of lamb souvlaki. Paris encouraged me to order dishes I could not always pronounce. The United States introduced me to Cajun food, crawfish boils and an astonishing range of hot sauces; Brazil brought fruits, juices and street foods that felt entirely new. Each place added something, but none replaced what came before.

That is still how I cook. A meal may begin with something seasonal, something found in the cupboard or an ingredient bought because it looked too good to leave behind. The influence might be Austrian, Mediterranean, Asian, Latin American—or several of them meeting happily in the same dish.

Foodwizardry in Sussex.

Foodwizardry is now rooted in Sussex: local producers, seasonal ingredients, practical shopping and food made in a real kitchen. Some recipes are quick and economical; others look like a million dollars without demanding restaurant-level technique. I am interested in flavour, not rules, and in giving people enough confidence to adapt a dish to what they actually have.

Almost every food photograph here is my own, and every recipe begins with something I have genuinely cooked, tested, adapted or served. I hope the site feels generous, curious and never too precious—a place where good ingredients, useful leftovers and a little imagination can become something worth making again.

Happy cooking,
Catherine