One year ago, on a nice sunny day a carpenter was working in our kitchen, to build in a couple of new shelves. Ábel and I were in the middle of our usual daily routine with a toddler: noisy and quiet at the same time, without any apparent accomplishment, but always busy with something without…
A sourdough bread, kneaded with memories
Not a long time ago I baked a sourdough bread, the first time after three years.
The starter is still the same. THE starter, which was brought by a baker from San Fransisco to Barcelona, then taken by another baker in Málaga and finally I got gifted with a jar…
After the long silence….
To read it in Hungarian, click here/A magyar változatért katt ide
This spring I have started a serie on Facebook with the title ‘Everyday miracles from photos which represent quite basic things: a box of farm eggs, a crate of fresh strawberries, a half kilo of cottage cheese and sour…
Closing the door on the past- semolina soufflé
My parents moved to their first flat just before I was born. The tiny apartment was located on the 9th floor of a new building block in a microdistrict, which my mother decorated with lots of love, since it was their first home. However, it was really small for…
Cooking, a refuge in uncertain times: crêpes filled with spinach
‘You should start writing’, says Áron not for the first time this month, without giving me the sense of pressure, but with his typical, meaningful look.
‘But what should I write about in this current situation?’, I ask in despair, ‘everything would sound so unnatural and insincere….
‘Write from your heart…
An everyday story about extraordinary acts- Hungarian jam pastries
This story has been waiting for me to tell you since last year. The scene of this story is a small village in northwestern Hungary, in the Bakony mountains, however it could be any village where those kind of people live for whom keeping traditions, and preserving values for…