on food and identity
The handsome and talented husband embarked on a sourdough bagel-making quest a while back. A man’s got to find something else to do on weekends aside from coding apps/VR and whisky tasting. Berlin winters, you know: the 2017 Formula 1 season hadn’t started yet and his sourdough starters were exploding out of the jars in the shelves of our fridge, despite regular giveaways to friends.
To me, personally, this is a post about loss and grief, though for everyone else, I want this to be a story about food and love. It’s been challenging to write. The emotional connection between food, love, death and survival runs deep. For most cultures, death and funeral rituals involve some kind of sharing a meal. There’s no better way to prove you’re alive, than by… Read More
Arriving at work on my birthday last week, I unexpectedly found this bottle of Monkey47 gin on my desk, with a handwritten note from Carsten. He is a member of my exclusive “in vino veritas/in Negroni veritas” club AKA drink-at-your-own-risk-while-I-get-inside-your-head-in-11-questions club. It’s endearing that he gifted me with this.
I’m rather averse to celebrating my own birthday with a crowd, even with good friends. In the six years we’ve lived in Berlin, I think I only celebrated my birthday with friends twice: once when the handsome-and-talented husband organised a surprise birthday party for me at home, and another when he twisted my arm to take friends out for a… Read More
Somehow I lost my groove with food photography and writing about food. Despite work travel wrecking my weekday rhythm a little, I’m still eating great food, trying out new places in the ‘hood. I just haven’t written about it. Oh well, here’s my attempt at exercising my photography and writing muscles. A cook-and-shoot session with Phil is overdue, methinks!
Ah, Jakarta. Not an easy city to love. Legendary traffic jams with equally horrendous air quality, inhabited by the most unfriendly, materialistic Indonesians I’ve ever met, and where the contrasting extremes of wealth and poverty makes me sick. The city really doesn’t have much going for it. Except for the food. Oh, my.
Andreas is smart and funny (in that dry German way) and he completely geeks out on food, from preparing to consuming to talking about it. No wonder I have a foodie crush on him! We met at work, although Andreas is based in Stuttgart so I am not blessed daily with his tall beardy awesomeness. Prolly a good thing, because while we go… Read More
