Most of my adult life has been governed by food, cooking it taking the preparation of it to new personal levels. Then the eternal quest to learn more about the simplicity of combinations. The exploring of new techniques, flavors and then the use of ingredients in

Its rest day and we entered in the real Wild West, a small village An Bian in the Shaanxi province, 1500km down the road. As well as this it is the home village of Mr. Lee, our guide and route advisor. Time has stood still for

We had a window period in which we had to complete this journey. The first being March, April, May, although getting a bit hot it could be done. The second was August, September, October, but longer than this we would be heading into winter and temperatures

Soft and inviting to the eye, slowly rolling along the foothills of the black mountains that are parched and burnt, a landscape that is daunting and unforgiving. There is no sign of life or water. Every last blade of grass has died with the drought and

It was late afternoon as we wearily jogged into the village, high in the foothills of the mountain. We have been caught out by this sudden cold spell. Dressed in shorts, and thin windbreakers, our fingers swollen from the altitude and cold, wind stinging our faces

After skillfull negotiations Pia, our interpreter, got me permission to spend some time in the local hotel kitchen. It has been a while since I have “felt the heat of the kitchen”. This is such a special place to me, a sanctuary and a place that

In my preparation for this journey, I thought I was totally prepared, training my self to run 3 times a day with ease, day after day, my body was comfortable and mentally I was capable of pulling myself through it. Now nearly 2000 km into the

Shandon town, an industrial town in the dessert waste land, caught half way between its evolution into a modern day town and the time warp of ancient Chinese way of life. The streets bustle with small business, street hawkers, donkey drawn carts, the ever present three

It was getting late; the evening chill was making its presence felt. Clad just in a running vest, I felt a small sense of concern creeping in as we crossed donga after donga in search of our pickup point, somewhere in the valleys ahead. The last

Change. Such a simple word but with such a vast spectrum of influence in its path. How the change of terrain has affected us. In the space of a few hundred meters from the incredible desert, down the plateau onto the river flood plain. Gone are