On this particular lazy Sunday in late July, when my to-do list wasn’t being done, lunch came along just in time to remind me that the act- the art- of putting food on the table, of preparing a meal for and with the people you love, is enough.
It was a meal made out of the fabric of our family life, spanning generations and continents.
Carrots and courgettes with garlic and lemon thyme and roast new potatoes, both ‘recipes’ made up by me when I lived in an extremely English village, and grew lemon thyme in a window box.
The roast chicken recipe is originally from the book Dear Francesca, written by an Italian woman living in the UK, a gift from my mother when I first went to live with my Italian love, now my husband and father of my daughter.
The white chocolate mint cheesecake is from a book of recipes I bought in a Beirut bookshop as a birthday gift for my father, with the hope that the women in his life, including me, would eventually make every single one.