19/09/2026
🥹There’s something extraordinary about the way food holds memory.
In the last few weeks, we said goodbye to my beautiful Grandma. For my grandparents, there was never really a reality where there was one without the other and so the weeks since have been hard.
This week I stopped at Red Cow Providore on my way to sit with Grandpa. I grabbed a coffee and almost as an afterthought, a savoury muffin to go.
I sat down with Grandpa, took one bite of the muffin and suddenly I wasn’t at the nursing home anymore.
I was back in Grandma’s kitchen.
Her savoury muffins, fresh from the oven. That familiar smell. That taste. The kind of ordinary little moment you never realise will become precious while you’re living it.
I’d actually tried to recreate Grandma’s savoury muffins years ago, but I never came close. And yet completely by chance, one bite of a muffin on an ordinary day took me straight back there.
It reminded me that food is so much more than something we eat. It’s kitchens and people and places. It’s childhood and family. It’s recipes made so many times nobody measures anything anymore. It’s sitting around tables with people we thought would always be there.
Sometimes a memory doesn’t arrive as a photograph or a story. Sometimes it arrives warm from the oven.
And sometimes when you need it most, it tastes like home & someone you love. 🤍
