My kitchen is … where I work, where I entertain, where I like to be. It’s very small and cosy. It was a real wreck when I first moved in – smoky and horrible, but I could see I could make it beautiful. I painted two of the walls the same bright green as my grandmother’s house in Ukraine and I furnished it with an upcycled bench, a 1940s mirror, lots of old family photos, a clock and my collection of Ukrainian painted chopping boards. I like vintage stuff that no one wants. My mother calls it nipotrib, (from nipotribno, which translates to “don’t need it”). It’s cluttered but tidy. I’m convinced it has a connection with my brain – it has to be tidy, otherwise I can’t function.
My favourite kitchen tool is … my dough board that my friend’s husband made for me in Ukraine. I have very little space, and work with dough a lot: it is so practical – easy to clean and creates extra space when I perch it on the counter top.
My storecupboard staple is … unrefined sunflower oil. I bring it back from Ukraine in plastic water bottles. It reminds me of home: it intensifies my nostalgia, but it also cures it. My grandmother Vera lives right opposite a factory where they produce it, and we just go with a bottle to fill it up. I use it to dress salads and fermented pickles.
When I’m starving I … have a piece of toasted sourdough, with a thick piece of feta, and – when they’re in season – some nice tomato and salt on top. It’s a habit I picked up in Cyprus. And in the winter, I always have chicken stock in the freezer, so I’ll usually have a bowl of broth with some barley and whatever seasonal veg I have to hand.
For dinner tonight … I am making an Azeri chicken and saffron broth with tiny dumplings called dyushbara. They are stuffed with spiced lamb. I am serving it with herbs and sumac. In winter, I can never have enough broth.
My culinary inspiration is … people’s stories. Especially if someone talks evocatively about their life or their past – I’m such a romantic, the past always carries this dreamy quality. I immerse myself in stories and they inspire me to create. Also, my everyday life – whatever I see, whatever I find in shops, whoever I meet – I weave it all into my food.
My best-kept kitchen secret is … to tie a little plastic bag for scraps to the handle of my oven, so I don’t have to waste time going to the bin constantly when I’m cooking. I don’t have space for a bowl, but the bag does the trick.
My current obsession is … foraging. In the UK it’s become a bit posh, but it shouldn’t be. In Georgia, foraging is such a basic everyday thing to do, and that’s how I grew up too in Ukraine. So I’m rediscovering it, experimenting with crab apples and wild leeks and such. I’ve been working on a fermented crab apple puree. I have fermented them with fresh tarragon and mint. I’m also doing a batch of winter tomatoes, with a rare Spanish variety I bought on Natoora. They’re grown near the sea so they are quite salty to start with, and I’m fermenting them Georgian style – you make four incisions, and stuff garlic, bay leaves and celery inside then ferment them in a weak brine, until they fizz and go funky. I’m planning on using them for my dinners at London restaurant, Carousel, where I’ll be doing a residency in the last week of February.
Everything tastes better with … fat – whether it’s butter or oil or some kind of animal fat, on a salad or in a soup … I can’t live without fat. It’s a strong word, and it shouldn’t be feared. Fat means flavour in my book.
When I go shopping I … just head to my corner shop. Sometimes if I have time I go to the farmers’ market in Alexandra Palace.
• Olia will be taking over Cook’s Instagram (@guardian_cook) this weekend. Log in for tons of fresh ideas and inspiration. @OliasGastronomy, @oliahercules
•This article was amended on Saturday 13 February
