Fireside began the way most good things do: quietly, without grand ambition, born from the simple pleasure of cooking for people I care about and writing down what worked. Over the years, that small notebook grew into a collection—recipes scribbled on scraps of paper, annotated cookbooks with margins full of adjustments, the occasional triumphant photo of something that turned out particularly well.
This site is an attempt to gather those recipes in one place, to share them in the same spirit they were developed: generously, without pretension, with the understanding that cooking is both an art and a deeply practical act. These aren't museum pieces. They're meant to be used, adapted, argued with, made your own.
I believe in cooking that values flavour over fussiness, technique over trend, and the kind of meals that make people want to linger at the table. I believe in good ingredients treated simply, in recipes that scale to feed a crowd or comfort a single diner, and in the quiet satisfaction of making something delicious with your own hands.
If you find something here that becomes part of your own repertoire, that gets scribbled in your own notebook with your own adjustments, then this collection has done its job. Welcome to the table.
Absolutely. Cooking is not chemistry—there's room for improvisation. If you can't find something or don't like an ingredient, swap it out. The recipes here are starting points, not commandments. Just use good judgment: if you're substituting a major flavour component, expect the dish to taste different (though not necessarily worse).
Not really. Most of these recipes can be made with standard kitchen equipment: a good knife, a decent pot and pan, a reliable oven. Where something specific is truly helpful—a stand mixer for bread, a mandoline for thin slicing—I'll mention it, but there's almost always a workaround if you don't have it.
Photos are aspirational, not prescriptive. What matters is whether it tastes good, not whether it looks Instagram-ready. Some of the best meals I've ever made have been thoroughly unphotogenic. Trust your palate more than your eyes.
In most cases, yes. Baking can be more temperamental about scaling, but savoury dishes generally adapt well. Just keep in mind that cooking times may need adjustment—a larger roast takes longer, a half-batch of curry cooks faster.
Mostly from regular supermarkets, with occasional trips to farmers' markets when I want something particularly good or seasonal. I'm not precious about provenance unless it genuinely makes a difference to the dish. Buy the best you can afford and access easily, and don't stress about the rest.
Experience helps, but so do your senses. Meat should feel a certain way when pressed (firm but yielding), bread should sound hollow when tapped, vegetables should yield to a knife. Thermometers are helpful but not essential. Trust yourself—you'll learn the cues over time.