Thank You

color, flavor, light

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2010. It was the year I knew I needed a change of course. Research into the complexities of our government was my everyday and it would be for the rest of my life. Publishing works on presidential leadership while dreaming of going home and playing with my food. That was my fate. I wanted the opposite: I wanted my work to become my hobby again and my hobby to become my life. For several years, my free time was consumed by books on food. I’d read and learn and file the information away in a mental folder labeled “culinary” (and in another one labeled “pastry,” of course) that rested on the shelf, sandwiched between the one labeled “Calvinism” and the other labeled ”democracy.” And 2010 was the year I learned about Yotam Ottolenghi and his business partner Sami Tamimi — their backgrounds and their popularity in London.

I thought I had found my culinary cousin — a wiser, more creative, more experienced cousin. This is how I like to eat. Ottolenghi gets me, I thought. Persian father, American mother, I grew up with no real food story. I eat and love everything, but it is the freshness of the Mediterranean and the boldness of the Middle East, no region’s unique cuisine excluded, that will always be my favorites.

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Happiness is a Room Full of Cookbooks


It’s true that this blog is relatively young, but sometimes I feel a little disconnected from the Boston food blogging community for a very good reason: I don’t actually live in Boston. I commute to Boston for work. I went to school in Boston. My friends are in Boston. I’m a walking catalogue of where to eat in Boston. I feel like Boston is my true home, and sometimes I have to remind myself that I can’t just hop the T to get to my house at night or that I can’t just go out to dinner with a friend without advance planning.

That’s why I was thrilled when I snagged a spot to my first Boston Brunchers event this past Sunday. I always refer to myself as a “cookbook hoarder.” In recent years, I’ve changed that to “good cookbook hoarder,” as I’m awfully discerning about the sources from which I use recipes. Nonetheless, I pour over cookbooks in my spare time, treasure pulling from different cookbooks to make a cohesive menu and, quite honestly, would choose to read one over a really good novel. So a slightly unconventional Sunday brunch chez Harvard Common Press was right up my alley.

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