Hello there! I’m Clara Wren, a 37-year-old homegrown chef from the rolling hills of Somerset, England. I wasn’t born in a bustling kitchen or raised by a lineage of Michelin stars—just a curious kid who loved the way warm scones smelled on a rainy afternoon and how a simple shepherd’s pie could bring the whole family around the table without fail.
My journey into cooking didn’t start in culinary school but at my nan’s wooden table, flour on my cheeks and a wooden spoon twice the size of my hand. She made everything from scratch—pastries, pickles, chutneys, and stews that could hug your soul—and I soaked it all up like a sponge. Back then, I didn’t know I was learning. I thought we were just chatting and baking.
I spent most of my twenties working odd jobs, from cafés in Cornwall to a tiny pub kitchen up in Yorkshire. I didn’t wear a proper chef’s coat until I was nearly thirty, and even then, I still burned a fair number of toasts. But every burnt bit taught me something—patience, mostly—and reminded me why I loved this messy, unpredictable art. Because that’s what cooking is, really: a kind of magic that doesn’t mind if you spill things along the way.
Now I live just outside Bath with my husband, two very picky kids (who’ve become surprisingly good taste-testers), and a rescue spaniel who thinks he’s the head chef. I run cooking workshops from my kitchen and post simple, comforting recipes online for anyone who wants to feed their family without fuss or frills. My cooking style is honest, rooted in British tradition but always open to new twists. You’ll find cheddar in my soda bread, a hint of garam masala in my beef stew, and the occasional experiment that goes straight in the compost bin—and that’s perfectly fine.
What I love most is connecting with other home cooks. People who find joy in stirring a pot, who believe in seconds (and thirds), and who know that even the smallest kitchen can be the heart of a home. If you’re looking for perfect plating or foam that smells like seawater, you might want someone else. But if you want real food, real laughs, and someone who’ll tell you it’s okay to swap thyme for rosemary because you ran out—then pull up a chair.
I’m Clara. Let’s cook something lovely together.