I once read that in the Celtic tradition monks and warriors undertook “incredible journeys of imagination and spirit.
Chris and I are shortly off to Amalfi in Italy.
The only noise that distracted us during our short stay at La Rochelle Country House in Zimbabwe’s eastern highlands was that made by the birds.
It’s that time of year. August. Late winter on our edge of the Zambezi escarpment. When the earth heats up; when the seeds go wild. My garden is coming into its annual climax and my heart is happy.
Before I set about making my first-ever pho, I learned that the depth of flavour, its intense colour and clarity, is all in the making of the broth.
The language of food echoes through the generations in rural Zambia.