The Dinner We Make When It’s Too Hot to Cook
By August, cooking in Catalonia can feel like a punishment for having bought food. The kitchen is already warm before anyone touches the hob. Opening … Read more
The Dinner We Make When It’s Too Hot to Cook
By August, cooking in Catalonia can feel like a punishment for having bought food. The kitchen is already warm before anyone touches the hob. Opening … Read more
The Lunch That Started at 2:30 and Finished at 6
I made the mistake of asking what time lunch was. Not when we needed to leave. Not when people were arriving. Not when food would … Read more
The Market Where Albert Tried to Buy One Tomato
We went to the market this morning because Albert decided he’s now an authority on Catalan food. This happened after last night’s tomato-bread dinner, which … Read more
The Night Albert Asked Why Bread Needs Tomatoes
Just bread, tomatoes, olive oil, maybe a few anchovies if Albert didn’t protest. One of those dinners that technically counts as cooking even though it … Read more
Sant Esteve Canelons: The Leftovers That Save Christmas (and My Kitchen Table)
The morning after Christmas in our house smells like coffee and yesterday. The fridge is full of containers that look faintly official. Labels in JC’s … Read more
Escudella de Nadal: The Catalan Christmas Pot That Feeds Everyone (and Then Some)
Christmas cooking in Catalonia does not whisper. It arrives with a stockpot the size of a small child, the smell of simmering meat drifting through … Read more
The Market That Overwhelmed Me (and the Stew That Brought Me Back)
We went to the Saturday market in Vic because JC said it would be good for Albert. He said it like homework. Fresh air, colours, … Read more
Market Day, Simple Suquet
We went to the market early. List on the back of Albert’s phonics sheet. Fish stalls busy, good prices. The fishmonger offered a mixed pack … Read more
Picada Night (and the Small Stone That Changed the Kitchen)
I promised myself I wouldn’t make big claims about tiny wins. Then last night happened, and here I am, writing a love letter to a … Read more
When Albert Made Dinner—And It Didn’t Explode
It started because I left the room. That’s always when things shift. Not during the actual mess, but in the lull before it—when you think, … Read more