A Letter to the Farro's Kitchen Family

Dear friend (yes, you — the one who's ordered the meal deal four weeks running, I see you).

Right, deep breath. I have news, and it's the kind that comes with both a wobbly lip and a slightly unhinged laugh.

Farro's Kitchen is closing.

Not because the food stopped being good (it didn't — I will die on that hill), and not because I stopped loving turning my kitchen into a small, fragrant chaos zone twice a week. I started this whole thing cooking the food I grew up on, and honestly, every "this tastes like my mum's cooking" message made my entire week. Some of you have never met me and still know my chicken karahi better than my own family does. That's a wild kind of love and I'm grateful for it.

So here's the actual, unglamorous reason: DPD. I want it on record that I have spent more hours in DPD's live chat than I have on most hobbies I claim to have. Parcels going missing, turning up looking like they'd been through a rugby match, meals arriving a day late and several degrees short of "still a meal" — I refunded so many of these I could've opened a small bank. Every single mess-up meant me on the phone chasing couriers instead of putting my kids to bed, or rewriting yet another "I'm SO sorry" email at 11pm instead of, you know, sleeping.

I gave it a proper go. I really did. But eventually you have to ask yourself: am I doing this for my customers and my kids, or am I doing this to make DPD's day harder? And once the answer was "mostly the second one," it was time to stop.
So this is me, closing up shop, with far more gratitude than grumpiness. Thank you for every order, every review, every ridiculous 9pm "is it too late to order for tomorrow" message (it was never too late, I just said yes and panicked). You made this whole slightly chaotic venture worth it.
Farro's Kitchen is closing. My love for every single one of you is not — that one's staying open indefinitely, no courier required.

With love, chaos, and zero regrets,
Farro xx