……any dinner rooted in the idea of a gratified holiday simply doesn’t seem appealing
How do our food traditions change in the wake of hard times? Do they become a solace, a space for reprieve, or do they adjust or perhaps fade away? The following piece was as cathartic as it was difficult to write, as I reflect on a temporary pause on one of my most loved of foodie holidays.
Chai tea is a combination of two tastes I really dislike.
This is the second piece shared by Emily, a kind hearted soul I once lived with when we both worked in Northern Lebanon years back. From workplace confidants to nightlife buddies, our friendship continues to bloom in spite of distance and time.
Her story is a reminder that not all food memories are happy ones, not all foods pleasing to the palette or hearts. This is a story of sorrow, tradition, and spice.
Big letters adorned the top of the page – Dad’s Menu
It was just a few days after his mother had moved out. Joel’s parents were getting divorced, and his childhood home at the end of the Bakerloo line went from a party of four to a party of three. Papa B was sitting at the dining room table, typing away on their desktop computer. Big letters adorned the top of the page – Dad’s Menu.
And sometimes, it goes into icing
I never got to meet my maternal grandmother. She suddenly and tragically passed away a mere six months before my mom gave birth to my older sister.