Some places are impossible to put into words. It is like these places request silence and exists only within, independent of space and time. Yet, if you are lucky, sometimes you can feel a place’s soul even miles away. Only by a faint smell that belongs only to that place, the fine taste of bread and butter with a dash of salt, caramel cinnamon or the magic of colourful and crispy spices teleporting you in that very special moment in time when you were there.
As in Proust’s Madeleine – smell and taste can take you to a journey in yourself, in a place you’ve been before and you are yearning to be again, in a fantasy land that you know it exists because you have been there and never stopped searching your way back.
Often I ignore my sense of taste and smell (along with other senses equally important) – it seems unimportant with all the busyness taking over I forget to enjoy the simple joy of eating. As the pure pleasure of an apple. Have you been lucky enough, as a child, to explore the journey of an apple? An apple has a long adventurous journey from its tree to your busy hands and uninterested buds. From a tree rich in apples, is handpicked by the hands of your grandfather, carefully wrapped in paper next to other lucky winners and sent to you as the most honest and pure form of love.
I will not get all master chef(y) here, just that I get more aware of the food that I eat lately. Probably it comes with age, but I feel is equally important not only what you eat but how you take a moment to enjoy that food. So, here it comes, my Instagram series dedicated to food.
Bonapp! As they say around here.
