Crumpety pancakes | Yemenite lachuch

The first time I met Irit, she was running around her tiny hole-in-the-wall caff, blistering aubergines and squeezing oranges, chopping salad and plonking plates onto tables. All the while screeching Hebrew greetings and orders to her customers (most of whom she knew). Her long grey hair was scraped into a messy bun and she wore a

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Homemade salt and other discoveries

December was a month for firsts. I saw an avocado tree for the first time, I picked my first passion fruit (and ate it), I built my first yurt, I became a dab hand at using a circular saw and it was the first time I completely avoided the Christmas prelude – this caused a

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Pig head soup anyone?

Just a quick note to raise a glass and say hello and happy Christmas to you all! This is me pretending I’m still drinking cognac in Armenia, when really I’m sat on my mum’s sofa not doing much. Please indulge me for just a moment. Coming home from a six-month trip across the “wild east” has

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Georgian beef flatbreads

I’ve been meaning to give Nora a proper intro for ages now so, finally, this is she. Hello Nora. Reasons given are: she’s a great cook, a firm farmhand and a good soul. She also has a toothless smile, a grip to cripple you and the ability to make kubdari (Georgian flatbreads stuffed with spiced beef or

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Dolloped and fried

Growing up, pancakes were a staple dinner. Not the fluffy American ones, it was the thin crêpes, rolled up with ham and cheese or lemon and sugar, that my ma would make (she is French I guess). Shrove Tuesday or not, there they’d be, at least every few weeks. Perhaps it’s for this reason that

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