If you want to read a little more about my history with food, my food philosophy and why I don’t believe in fad diets, begin here. The topic of food is mercurial. There’s hedonism—the pure pleasure of food. And community—the warmth of gathering loved ones and strangers alike in communion. And feeling—because food evokes memories and…
The sweet little boy in this photo just turned THREE. As milestones usually make me do, I started reminiscing, going back and reading through his first year posts to remind myself of the fleeting nature of each phase. As I did, I noticed that I had never posted all the photos from his first birthday…
I didn’t grow up eating ethnic food. Exotic meals included taco nights, with crispy taco shells filled with seasoned ground beef and shredded lettuce and cheddar cheese, or a Bisquick-crust pizza, again with seasoned ground beef, tomato sauce and shredded cheese. My Mom was–and is–a great home cook, but when I was growing up we…
We arrived in Tel Aviv mid-morning, bleary-eyed and a little wobbly from lack of sleep, since Theo was the only one of the eight of us to sleep on the flight from Toronto. We were also hungry and some of us in need of a coffee. But I had forgotten that we were arriving on…
If you’ve been reading here for a while, you’ll already be familiar with my yearly reflections and the setting of intentions for the year ahead. In one form or another, it’s a thoughtful, meditative process I’ve repeated each year for the better part of thirty-five years, since I received my first red leather-bound diary at…
The first few years Elie and I were together, we didn’t exchange Christmas gifts, guided by a feeling that we already have so much. But, Christmas morning always felt like something was missing–not the getting, but the joy of giving. Giving a gift to someone you love is a joyful process the whole way through,…
I lost my temper yesterday, and I had extreme mom guilt last night. To be honest, I’m a pretty patient person, and I don’t lose my cool very often. Almost never, actually. Being an older mom helps with patience, I think. I know I’m generally a more patient person at 43 than I was a…
Every night, after bath and pajamas and the wrangling that is brushing a willful two-and-a-half year old’s teeth, Theo and I go into his room, dim the lights and get ready for sleep. I sit down in the rocking chair and he squeezes in beside me, holding two books. I wrap my arms around him…
This is the second recipe in a four-part series of posts inspired by a meal Elie and I shared in northern Israel in 2012. Six years later, the details of the meal remain sharp in my memory. Here was the first recipe in the series.