Duck à l'orange & Big Dreams: How Rachel Khoo’s Little Paris Kitchen Changed My Creative Life

Once upon a time, in a tiny kitchen, in the heart of Paris, a woman named Rachel Khoo, opened a jar of mustard, stirred up a sauce, and with a flick of her red lips and a glint in her eye, inspired a creative revolution. Not just in her viewers’ kitchens, but in their hearts.

I was one of them! And I have been a huge fan of Rachel Khoo ever since.

I didn’t set out to fall in love with French cooking. Truth be told, it intimidated me. All that butter, technique, tradition. Sauces with rules! Whisking with purpose! And did you say duck?! But then came Rachel, with her tiny stove and tiny fridge and enormous joy.

Her show, The Little Paris Kitchen, wasn’t just about food. It was about freedom. About finding your voice and daring to try something utterly new and a little bit wild.

So I did.

I bought duck. I zested oranges. I baked cakes with names I couldn’t pronounce. And I cooked for the people I love. Not just to feed them, but to celebrate life.

Because cooking, I discovered, isn’t that different from art. It’s tactile, sensory, a little risky, and wildly rewarding when it works. And when your orange à la duck becomes the highlight of the evening? That’s not just dinner. That’s creative triumph.

Rachel showed me that the kitchen can be a studio. That cooking can be playful. That you don’t need perfect tools or a Michelin star to create something beautiful. You just need passion. Curiosity. And a big spoonful of courage.

Her aesthetic, too. Oh la-la. Vintage-meets-modern, joyful, charmingly imperfect. This obviously speaks deeply to my own creative style. As a vintage collage artist, graphic designer, and writer, I’ve always been drawn to that blend of old-world charm and fearless self-expression. Paris, with its peeling facades, golden light, and irresistible patisseries, feels like one giant inspiration board. And Rachel? She’s its joyful curator.

Watching her blend tradition with bold personal flair gave me permission to do the same. And it's not just in my cooking, but in my art, my writing, and the way I live. Like her, I now create for joy, for connection, and for the quiet magic that happens when we share something handmade.

I cook to celebrate good food and even better conversations. I collage to tell forgotten stories. I write to remind people that living creatively is a choice. And it's a choice that's always worth making.

So here’s to tiny kitchens and big dreams.

To sauces that make you sweat and cakes that make you dance.

To vintage aprons and messy countertops.

And to the women like Rachel Khoo, who stir a little more joy into the world, one spoonful at a time.

With buttery love and Parisian flair,

Louise

I would love to hear your reflections on this topic. Join the conversation on LinkedIn, where I share more insights and invite dialogue with educators, creatives, and leaders worldwide. Connect to LinkedIn here.

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