for the love of food, and the food of love
Where hungry hearts come for comfort, inspiration, and connection
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Hi, I’m Sarah
…and I am passionate about all things food and love - the joys, the disappointments, and the surprises….
Finally getting back into the swing of all things Feasting Hearts, I am picking up the series around the tale of how my husband became my husband. This second piece follows up from that first chance encounter at a brunch spot in Beirut. And like the first story of our tale, it includes hints of fond romanticism over a time and place in my life, as much as it is of my growing feelings for a friend.
This story is shared by my husband, giving his own side of the tale of when we first met. And similar to mine, it flows into a courtship of brunch, at times even more so than the start of our relationship.
…and I am passionate about all things food and love - the joys, the disappointments, and the surprises….
Finally getting back into the swing of all things Feasting Hearts, I am picking up the series around the tale of how my husband became my husband. This second piece follows up from that first chance encounter at a brunch spot in Beirut. And like the first story of our tale, it includes hints of fond romanticism over a time and place in my life, as much as it is of my growing feelings for a friend.
My mother-in-law, Mimma, has written this beautiful reflection of her mother, a legend of a woman is a mother to five children, grandmother to ten grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren. Mimma wanted to reflect on two staples of the Sunday lunch table, spanning years and now generations of ritual.
To read Tom’s story is to feel like you have a seat at the table. You can anticipate the coordinated movement of a family meal, passing along the plates, requesting someone to share the gravy when they are done, and having your glass generously topped off. No need to rush through dinner, there are no plans afterwards other than to continue the informal chat and digest with a tea.
This is a story of homecomings, humble ceremony, and pie.
While food often remind us of the ones we love and loved, they can also trigger our endearment for a place. A holiday destination with neon vivid sunsets and appetizers of local cheeses drizzled with honey. A local café where you met your soulmate, and that just so happens to bake a decadent chocolate banana bread. Or, as my incredibly talented and artistic sister-in-law has shared, it can be your hometown, where some of your most memorable food moments were born.
Silvia is a gifted soul in many regards, and I am so blessed she has shared this story reflecting her affection for the island at the bottom of the boot. An annual tradition that has made its way from the family kitchen table in Sicily to her new home in London.
This is a story of seasonal sweets, humble autumn dinners, and baked copper.
Emily has kindly written not only one, but two stories to Feasting Hearts, both with very different dispositions. The story below has all the elements of that special dish from a favourite loved one – the anticipation when you see the ingredients out in preparation, or when you come home and it is sitting on the kitchen counter ready for tomorrows lunch. And while you can do your best to replicate it on your own, as Emily reminds us, there is often a special touch that cannot be found in even the most descriptive of recipes.
My mother-in-law, Mimma, has written this beautiful reflection of her mother, a legend of a woman is a mother to five children, grandmother to ten grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren. Mimma wanted to reflect on two staples of the Sunday lunch table, spanning years and now generations of ritual.