Katrina Meynink is a food writer who believes that no matter what life throws at you, there's a recipe to counter it. Her newly released cookbook, Kitchen Coquette, is filled with delicious meals and desserts, plus her personal musings to match.

As someone who learnt to cook by taste, mistakes and burnt forearms, Katrina guides you through what to bring to a wake, what to cook for potential in-laws, and even what to nibble on when you've broken up with a friend.

We talk to Katrina about the fun side of cooking, earning her chef's hat, and an Aussie twist on croque monsieur (hint: just add Vegemite).

Your cookbook isn’t something we’ve seen on the bookshelves before. Has it long been a dream of yours to add something fresh to the genre?
It wasn’t so much about adding something different or fresh, as much as it was about bringing some fun back to food and cooking. I think we’ve lost that Julia Child ability to drop a chicken on the floor, dust it off and keep on cooking. Now, it’s all about who has the “most organic” lamb or the biggest, perfect white plates to serve it on. Cooking and everything surrounding it – the people, the reasons you're cooking and where you're cooking – should be fun. I thought a book divided by life experiences was the best way I could connect these elements.

Kitchen Coquette won Best First Book (Australia) in the 2011 Gourmand World Cookbook Awards. “First book” would imply there’s another. Do you have another one in you? Or will you write a memoir, perhaps?
Absolutely! I am already working on a few new book projects, and I would love to sink my teeth into a huge food compilation one day – something like the Modernist Cuisine series involving lots of chefs, writers and researchers collaborating and evolving a concept.

What’s one cookbook that you hold high above all others?
That would be a dead tie between Stephanie Alexander’s The Cook’s Companion and a collection of food writing by M.F.K. Fisher, A Stew Or A Story.

As a food lover and writer, tell us why you're studying to be a chef.
I don’t think I had any kind of epiphany; my interest in food grew and grew, and just started to morph into every aspect of my life. The more I learnt, the more I wanted to know, and the more I understood how much I still had to (and have to) learn.

My food story is not one of growing up holding Granny’s skirt-folds in the kitchen learning to cook. I, sadly, left it far too late to learn a lot of these skills, so, in many ways, I learnt to cook from cookbooks. I became fascinated with flavours and produce, and started to spend every cent eating out at restaurants to find out how chefs were combing these elements. I am constantly in awe of chefs, cooks and food producers, and I think it was a respect thing for me – if I want to work in the world of food then that has to come from a place of knowledge, both physical and intellectual, and I don’t think you can beat the knife cuts, burns and friendships of professional kitchens.

Kudos on your recipe for Vegemite croque monsieur! Have you prepared this for any French friends? If so, what did they think of it?
Ha! Let’s just say there have been divided camps. One Frenchman loved it, while another thought the brash flavour of Vegemite had bastardised their national pastry.

Your book offers recipes for life’s awkward moments, hangovers, friendship divorce, first dinner date… You’ve thought of it all. But what would you cook for someone whom you didn’t want to see ever again?
Some of those wild mushrooms from our fine capital, perhaps?

You recently posted an article you wrote about your dislike of the “foodie” label. What do you think is a suitable replacement, to describe one who lives for, and knows all there is to know about, food?
I’d love it if we could move away from the idea of labels altogether – perhaps we should revert to that lovely old all encapsulating sentiment of [Jean Anthelme] Brillat-Savarin – “tell me what you eat, and I will tell you who you are”.

Is there any area of food in which you’d call yourself a snob?
Cannelés. I am obsessed with these little Bordeaux babies and a stickler for cooking traditions – they just absolutely have to be cooked in the traditional copper moulds, nothing else gives that delicate crust and airy, squidgy centre. Other than that, I’ll eat anything. And I mean anything.

What’s something we'd be shocked to learn about you?
I’d love to be a guest judge on So You Think You Can Dance.

Check out Katrina's website, The Little Crumb.