It is Sunday or Saturday. Wait no, it’s Monday. The only thing that differentiates one day from the next is the recipes that I create. In terms of days of the week, my reference has now become “the day we made  pancakes,” or “the morning we baked black bread” or “salmon day. I decided a few days ago to flip through the hundreds and hundreds of cookbooks on my shelf. They surround us, and stand proudly in my living room, dining room and spill into the kitchen. I’ve not opened them in ages and recently felt the impulse to do so. Flipping through the pages of those books was like flipping through a film reel through time.  

The film took me all the way back to my childhood, to my 7 or 8 year-old self, holding my Fannie Farmer cookbook dear to my chest at night-time and dreaming about the exciting recipes that I would make over the weekend. That specific cookbook played such a large role in my life, until I was old enough to start purchasing my own. And once I started, there was no holding back.

My favourite recipes were found of those pages notably ruffled with stains,-faint and not-so faint. I shared those stories (well, some of them) with my daughter, as each recipe brought me back a specific moment in time, as if I was still there, with the taste and smell still lingering strongly.

I sat there with my daughter in the mound of books for what seemed like hours that day, bathing in the beautiful memories of food shared, enjoyed and prepared for loved ones; some of whom are no longer in my life, others who are. 

The sun made its way through the large windows in my living room and flooded the kitchen with a glorious light. The light hit the three lemons that were hanging out in the centre island of the kitchen and I decided to make some lemon cake-letts! So said, so done, and they were awesome!

Enjoy!