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    Oh Father… Thoughts on losing my father

    The Tree

    Rundetaarn

    {Pardon me, this post is a slight deviation from my usual posts, but sharing this here is cathartic for me.}

    When your father dies, he takes your childhood with him. – Russian proverb

    I mourned the loss of my father years before he died. One of the things he taught me well was how to live without him.
    On Sunday when we got the call that he had passed away, I laid in bed waiting for that thing that happens to you when you lose a loved one to happen to me; except I don’t know what that thing is. Silence, a sense of peculiar sadness and a surge of hopelessness I hadn’t felt since the last time I lived with my father. Is this grief? Is there a word for a fatherless child? Because for decades, it hasn’t felt like I had a father.

    We moved from the city after I was born to live on a big plot of land in the middle of nowhere. My father built a tiny wooden shack on a patch of bushland and painted it yellow, that was our home for close to a decade. He farmed the land during the day and became my babysitter by default while my mom was at work and my siblings were in school. All my happiest memories of my father were from that time; this was also when we were dirt poor.

    For most of my life afterwards, I felt like I was a burden to my father; like if I wasn’t around, his life would be much easier. I was way in my teens the first time I realized I had lost my father.

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    Coffee Journal | Neighbours Coffee, Paris

     Neighbours Coffee, Paris

     Neighbours Coffee, Paris

     Neighbours Coffee, Paris

    Google just reminded me that I was at this coffee shop nine months ago, and Pearlsa claims to have had one of the best flat whites here. I say it’s time to tell you about this awesome little café that had us drooling over espresso drinks and toasted banana bread slathered in coffee infused butter.

    Neighbours is a sister café to the delightful Honor Café. While part of Honor’s allure is its unique outdoor location, great coffee, bright cozy interiors and excellent lunch/brunch options make Neighbours just as appealing.

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    Strawberry Rhubarb Pie with Pistachio Oat Crisp

    Strawberry Rhubarb Pie with Pistachio Oat Crisp

    Strawberry Rhubarb Pie with Pistachio Oat Crisp

    I love pairing strawberry with rhubarb. It creates a wonderfully delicious harmony of sweet and tanginess, and this strawberry rhubarb pie with pistachio oat crisp is a testament to that.

    Rhubarb season started several weeks ago in our little corner of the world. This is always exciting because with that, begins the arrival of local farm-fresh fruits and vegetables.
    At the farm market I go to, rhubarb is usually the first produce they harvest, and we’ve been buying them up like it’s going out of season – because it is!

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    Rice, Hummus, Peas and Lettuce

    Rice, Hummus, Peas and Lettuce

    Rice, Hummus, Peas and Lettuce

    I haven’t really been cooking (or keeping up with the blog) the way I want to, and this is partly because spring hasn’t been kind to me. I’ve been dealing with bouts of seasonal allergies all season long, actually. I started having breathing issues back in April and developed allergy induced asthma (my doctor tells me this is a real thing) which thankfully lasted for just a few days, but then I spent the month of May trying not to scratch my eyes out. So yeah, I haven’t made anything special in a while.

    Luckily we almost always have a jar of hummus tucked away somewhere in the fridge begging to be used up, and I appreciate that so much during these stretches when I’m not cooking.
    Hummus is versatile and we’ve tried it in a lot of things, but this rice, hummus, peas and lettuce combo has become an easy favourite.

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    An Apartment in Copenhagen

    An Apartment in Copenhagen

    An Apartment in Copenhagen

    An Apartment in Copenhagen

    An Apartment in Copenhagen

    An Apartment in Copenhagen

    In what feels like a lifetime ago – some two decades past – I grudgingly found myself in Copenhagen. This was my first time in the city and I was mostly holed up at the basement apartment below the Ghana Embassy in Hellerup, a nearby suburb. I spent all my time listening to a mixed tape of ‘90s R&B songs a boy had made me and reading depressing poems from a tattered copy of Love Is a Dog from Hell I’d gotten at a car boot sale for 50p.

    It wasn’t that I hated Copenhagen, I’d barely taken the time to discover the city, but being full of angst at that time, I was determined not to like it there; I loved reveling in misery back then.
    I remember going for a walk one time and feeling a little lighter, and imagining what it’ll feel like to come back in a calm, much happier time. I have this thing about recreating better memories of places where I was once unhappy, and Copenhagen had been on the list for a while now.

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