I’m cooking up some roasted cauliflower with paprika, crushed sea salt and pepper in oil. On the stovetop, a pan is sizzling with yukon gold slices, Spanish onion and garlic. Next up, swiss chard. And in my ears, Mumford and Sons.
And I feel like I owe you an explanation.
You come here regularly or happen upon this blog on occasion. As you may gather, I’m not a food blogger or someone who writes stories. I see intersections, I seek to find beauty in life even in the ugly bits.
If you came here and left with one piece of something to snack on, I would want it to be hope. Sometimes this means going into the dark places. And guess what, I invite you to accompany me because I know we will make it out on the other side.
See the thing is, I like you.
I do. And if I could, for just a moment, I would want to share a bit of my kitchen, a bit of what inspires me. Food is as inspiring as words of poetry or seeing new places and discovering the gold from the dross. So as you’re capping off your evening or starting your morning in a country on the other side of the globe, consider this my knocking on your door to see if you need a cup of tea, to say hello.
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