The soup kitchen

Every time my mother rings I seem to be making soup

When I left my job in the city I decided I was only going to make jam, grow my own vegetables and be the perfect mother. Foolish woman. I quickly realised that all those years working in an office had done something irreparable to my psyche. The urge to work, and not just in a lovely ‘creating the ideal home’ type of way, was just too strong.

Seduced by thoughts of yummy mummies cheerfully balancing the school run with a few happy hours making cup cakes to sell to an ever expanding public I decided soup was the way forward. I like it, I make a mean bowl of leek and potato, and I seem to spend a large amount of time doing it anyway.

Cue music… frothy coffees, radio 4 and generally having a lovely time with my friend Jo, coming up with recipes, trying other brands and creating the perfect company name – Soup Dragon (for kids) was the favourite.

Shortly after that, however, came the realisation that our plans for blitzing the soup market were a bit thin. Certainly when compared to a hearty winter warmer. The market is pretty much saturated and there really are an awful lot of very clever people out there already making delicious flavours. And, to be honest, in a taste test, I often preferred theirs.

BUT! We hadn’t chopped our way through a mountain of parsley and sage for nothing. Through all the blending and tasting came another realisation… most of the aprons, tea-towels and oven gloves we owned were, not to put too fine a point on it… RUBBISH!

And there was born the germ of an idea.

We decided to keep soup for lunch rather than business and create delicious kitchen textiles instead.

Grown-up designs, little innovations, aprons that fit and flatter, tea-towels that actually dry dishes, oven cloths that properly protect. Products that look, feel and behave like they should.

In other words, beautiful things that work.

The decision to make eveything in England was not taken lightly. We could save money and manufacture in China, but that’s not the point. We’re not on a mission but with cheap imports decimating our British textile market it just seemed wrong to make them anywhere else. And we do it really well here in Blighty. Plus, if it can help, in some small way, to support our floundering economy and reduce unecessary textile miles then that’s got to be a good thing too.

We started off testing out a few ideas on friends, foodies and focus groupers. Honest feedback can be hard to take. It was only when the third consecutive focus group gave our artful, witty washing line print the thumbs down that we decided perhaps we wouldn’t go ahead with it after all…

Our inspiration comes from simplicity. There’s a part of me that loves antique floral designs but they’re everywhere and we wanted to keep things clean and gorgeous. A timeless quality that’s not determined by fashion or fads. We want our products to spend their lifetime happily in the kitchen, doing what they’re meant to do and not being ousted because everything’s in mustard this year, dahling.

So… Fabrics are natural. Colours are rich but not overpowering. Aprons are cut generously to fit and flatter. Waist ties are longer than average (to tie in front or behind). Women's aprons are adjustable (to suit any décollotage). Men's pockets are tapered (a must for manly hands). And our little innovations help make kitchen life that little bit easier too. Things like our Toggle On – a handy kitchen cloth that hooks on your apron toggle, so it’s always where you need it.

We also feel, strongly, that the kitchen is a shared domain. There are no prints of naked Greek gods or amusing captions that just seem designed to offset an ill-perceived assumption that men don’t really belong in the kitchen.

So, one year on from making those first batches of soup, here I am with a small but gorgeous range of kitchen textiles, and new lines already in development. Jo, sadly, decided that the work/home juggle was too big a compromise. So it’s just me, a very supportive husband, an understanding 10-year old and a job that demands attention 24-hours a day. You could say that not a lot has changed since giving up corporate life… except for the location (and the pay packet).

But, actually, much has changed. I’m passionate about this new love of mine – it’s creative and demanding and rewarding. And I’ve come to realise that just because some of the things we do around the home might not be that glamorous, like washing up or peeling potatoes, wearing and using beautiful things that work make the whole experience that little bit better.

It’s now time for a spot of lunch. I’ll pop on a pinny and check the fridge… soup perhaps. Oh, that’ll be my mother.