One month into the new house.
And I’ve baked a pan of eggplant lasagne, chickpeas curry, ginger chicken stir fries, cheesy spinach muffins and some more even simpler dishes. As tonight I made a batch of honey muffin, chocolate muffin and so called Life Changing Bread just, I can safely safe this is more cooking than I’ve done in the past year!
How can I not!
This house, nay home, begs for spatula raising, whisking wisdom and handmade cookings. This home demands the sound of wine glasses clinking into the night. This home moans a little creak of pleasure when tired feet get their second wind and dances across the wooden floor. This home cries for an understated lamp in each corner illuminating the unseen and the smell of freshly baked goodies frolicking in the air. This home pleases the eyes and plays with your heart. Like a seasoned Casanova, it seduces you into living voraciously until you do nothing but surrender your wholesomeness into its embrace and to not apologise for being able to do so.
And once again you remember why it’s always the littlest thing that matters.
Little pleasure. Little joy. Little bubbles of happy. That rises from the gut, travels through the vein and bursts prematurely before I could bottle it up for a rainy day.