I love eggs. And because I work from home, breakfast is usually a simple affair: soft, jammy boiled eggs on toast, with plenty of salt and pepper and lashings of the best extra virgin olive oil. Simple, delicious and perfect.

But come the weekend, I want something a little more celebratory. If I’m going to make eggs, I want to make a meal of them. Lots of flavour, plenty of layers, fresh bread and all the little things on the table to mop up every last bit.

This recipe resembles a shakshuka however there is no capsicum only tomatoes and I use lots of spices including, cumin, 7 spice bharat and Aleppo pepper and for a zing, a touch of pomegranate molasses and a splash of lemon juice.

You can cook the eggs for as little or as long as you like depending on how you like them, my preference is undercooked and jammy, but Abdul likes them slightly firmer, both work well for this.

Now I must confess, this very pan of eggs has often graced the dinner table especially when I dont have much time to cook, and it is such a delicious end to the day.

I hope you give these eggs a crack,

Wow. Ok. Haha.

Hope you have the best week,

Karima x

P.S

There are still a few tickets left to the opening festival this weekend at the Powerhouse Parramatta, and for those of you who are already booked to come I cannot wait for you to come in and experience it for yourself.

Whenever Mum came home from the Lebanese butcher with raw meat to make kibbeh nayyeh, she almost always had a little extra to make kafta nayyeh. She would serve the two side by side, alongside a bag of fresh Lebanese bread and an over-the-top platter of crudités, showcasing the freshest produce she could get her hands on. Radishes, baby Lebanese cucumbers, spring onions, fresh mint and long, curly chillies.

This is how lunch always began. The raw dishes would come out first, with fresh bread to scoop up every last bit, wiping down the plates that were inevitably left with pools of extra virgin olive oil. These are some of my favourite memories. The kind of lunches that have stayed with me long after the plates were cleared, and the kind of food that takes me straight back to Mum’s kitchen.

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It makes an excellent side dish alongside meat, chicken or fish, but honestly, for us Lebanese, it is a complete meal in itself. It’s the kind of dish we make when we want something delicious, nourishing and, most importantly, simple.

Mujaddara reminds me that I’ve made my family a nutritious meal with very little effort and somehow, it is always so delicious. And then there are the leftovers. Mujaddara might actually be even better the next day, especially with a generous dollop of Greek yoghurt for lunch.

My favourite way to eat mujaddara is with a side salad, usually a very herby cabbage salad with lots of lemon juice and garlic in the dressing. Fattoush is also a perfect accompaniment to the humble rice dish as well as the infamous “laban w khyar” which is a garlic yogurt with chopped cucumber and sometimes dried mint. My husband Abdul thinks it ok to toss tuna through it on his lunch break, but each to their own.

Since I got married and moved out of home 13-odd years ago, I’ve made sure I always have green lentils, rice and onions in my pantry so I can make this very meal whenever I need something comforting, nourishing and requiring very little effort.

I hope it becomes one of those recipes that rescues you, too.

Karima xx

Gosh, it feels like I haven’t properly sat down at my desk for a month. I’ve been so busy in the kitchen recipe testing for my new cookbook, and in between that there were school holidays, my daughter Eden’s birthday, my only niece Celine’s birthday and, of course, my own birthday.

Now, as a self-confessed control freak who absolutely hates surprises of any kind, I was completely overwhelmed with joy when I walked into one of my favourite pasta restaurants to find 30 of my dearest friends waiting for me for a surprise birthday dinner, organised by my husband, Abdul.

I shared my reaction over on Instagram, and watching it back has actually made me rethink my long-standing hatred of surprises. As my beautiful friend Letitia put it so perfectly: “Control is overrated and an illusion.”

I’m not sure I’m quite ready to relinquish all control just yet, but I’m going to try to take it on board. Words are always much easier than actions!

My dear friend Cheryl also surprised me with a home made 3 layered lemon cake with home made berry jam sandwiched between each layer and it was just the most delicious cake I have had in a very long time and I realised the last time someone actually made me a birthday cake with almost 30 years ago. Another delightful surprise.

This week’s recipes are little treasures. They are recipes I have made countless times, usually entirely by eye, and as part of testing for my new cookbook, I’ve finally had to write everything down which felt like the perfect opportunity to share them with you here too.

First up is one of my favourite things to eat, and to serve when I’m entertaining, seasonal tomatoes on crusty toast. There is something about really good summer tomatoes I cant get enough of, I let them blister and caramelise in the oven while I make a sort of zingy salsa to toss them through, and the result is utterly delicious.

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Look, today is day one of the school holidays, so although I usually love to give you a little context and share a story alongside whatever recipe I’m sharing, that feels almost impossible today.

Speaking of impossible, my youngest daughter Eden has just wandered into my office while I’m frantically typing this to tell me how bored she is.

This is despite…

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The glorious box of broad beans from my dear friend Abbe

Last week, as I was writing the steps for making the perfect lamb shawarma for my next cookbook, the doorbell rang. Standing at the door was my friend Abbe with what must have been a 7kg box of freshly picked broad beans. He greeted me, handed me the box and sped off. As I made my way back inside, I was reminded of something I wrote in the introduction to my first cookbook, Sofra, where I described the Lebanese spirit as courageous, generous and hospitable. Those were my words, but they are words that are reinforced time and time again by the love shared within my Lebanese community.

As Lebanese people, food is our love language. And when we know someone loves a particular food, we will go to the ends of the earth to get it for them. This is something my dad did for us constantly growing up. If my sisters and I said we loved mangoes, there would be a box of them waiting for us on Sunday from the markets. If we said we loved avocado, you better believe my dad went out and bought an avocado plant so we could have avocados growing in the garden. True story.

So when I was visiting my friends Abbe and Leanne and saw a bowl of fresh broad beans sitting on the table, I helped myself to a few - yes, fresh broad beans are absolutely a Lebanese snack, and mentioned how much I look forward to them every year. The very next day, Abbe arrived at my door with a box in his hands.

I posted the glorious box on social media and the one and only Anissa Helou, who I can now kind of call a friend after spending some time together in Lebanon on my recent trip, messaged me and told me I had to make her Fattet Ful Akhdar from her latest cookbook, LEBANON.

Just me casually hanging out with THE Anissa Helou in Beirut

Now, there was absolutely no way I was turning down a recipe suggestion from Anissa. But what really piqued my curiosity was that I had never heard of Fattet Ful Akhdar before. And this is the thing about Lebanese cuisine that still blows my mind. No matter how well versed you think you are in the regions, the dishes and the traditions, there is always something else to learn. Always another recipe, another technique, another dish that somehow never made it onto your table.

In the introduction to the recipe, Anissa mentions that it was given to her by her friend Yasmine, which I thought was such a beautiful and generous gift. My beans had been given to me as a gift. Anissa had received the recipe as a gift from Yasmine. A gift, upon a gift, upon a gift. Anissa was kind enough to let me share the recipe with you here, a gift upon a gift upon a gift.

If you have been thinking about buying her cookbook, LEBANON, my suggestion is, do it. It is beautifully photographed and is a wonderful collection of Lebanese recipes, including many that you may not be familiar with at all, like the White Tabbouleh on page 84, which I am now very intrigued by. And with Christmas fast approaching, it would make a beautiful gift for anyone who loves Lebanese food, cooking or simply discovering something new.

If you are in my part of the world, please make the most of broad bean season and make this dish, and if not, save it for when they are in season.

Karima xx

The manuscript for my second cookbook is due in just over two months.

Festival season has well and truly begun with the Australian Native Food Festival this weekend, the Opening Festival for the Powerhouse Museum in November, the CEO Cookoff and the Lebanese Festival all happening before the start of December.

And somehow, all I can think about is this chicken salad I’ve been making almost every day for lunch. Because there is absolutely no way I’m going to get through the workload ahead without some serious fuel. And who said fuel had to be boring?

For those of you who missed it, last week The Australian Women’s Weekly had me on the digital cover of their magazine, announcing me as a contributor and sharing some of my recipes with their members.

It is such an honour, especially because of the impact The Weekly had not just on my family, but on so many Lebanese migrant families growing up in Australia. I am also the first Lebanese Australian to be a cover girl! Loud Lebanese zalghouta please (Lelelelelelelelelelele, the one Sabrina Carpenter disliked and called yodelling)

For my mum, it was a way of learning and understanding Australian food, she would collect recipes for everything from stir-fries, pasta bakes and, of course, baking. We had so many of their cookbooks lining the bookshelves at home, and I remember seeing them constantly being pulled down and flicked through in the kitchen.

So to now be part of The Australian Women’s Weekly as a contributor feels like such a full-circle moment.

From watching my mum cook from their recipes to now sharing my own, it is something I don’t take lightly.

And I’m so excited for what’s to come, oh and for you to make this chicken salad ofcourse!

Before I go, I have linked the tickets to the Australian Native Food Festival this weekend as well as the link to the Sunday Kitchen events at the Powerhouse Parramatta opening festival weekend on Sunday 8th November.

For the Powerhouse Opening Festival on Sunday 8th November there are two Sunday Kitchen talks /cooking demonstrations during the day, Lebanese Pantry is at 10.30am -11.30am and the Lebanese Butcher at 2.30pm - 3.30pm, both $30 each. At 6pm there is a Sunday Kitchen Feast which is a dinner and talk, showcasing some of our most loved dishes, and a discussion mediated by acclaimed food writer, Lee Tran Lam, it is simply not to be missed and only $50pp! So essentially you could come and spend the whole day, at two talks, wander through the brand new museum and have a dinner there all for $110pp - I am telling all of my family and friends to do it!

Ok thats enough from me,

Have the best week,

Karima x

Musakhan prepared by Ruba and Mona

Musakhan is the epitome of the Palestinian table. A large communal platter is placed at the centre, meant to be shared by everyone. At home, when we announce we’re making musakhan for dinner, the immediate response is, “Who’s coming?”

Everyone gathers around the same platter, reaching in with their hands to tear off pieces of taboon bread soaked in olive oil fragrant with sumac, gathering the onions and chicken into each mouthful. The food creates the gathering, and the gathering becomes part of the meal.

- Ruba and Mona

As soon as my friend Omar shared this glorious picture of Musakhan for lunch on Instagram, I asked him who had prepared it and whether I could have the recipe.

I’m writing my second cookbook at the moment, and after my trip to Lebanon I came home with so much inspiration. I’m deep in recipes, stories and layouts, and this was exactly the kind of food I wanted to include in my hosting chapter.

Omar told me it was his mum, Ruba, and her friend Mona who had prepared it. When I asked them if they would share the recipe for my next book, they so graciously gave it to me, along with a little story about the dish.

Musakhan is built from ingredients that carry the history of the land. Olive oil is fundamental to Palestinian cooking, and the annual olive harvest is deeply woven into Palestinian heritage and identity. Sumac is another defining Palestinian ingredient. And underneath it all is taboon bread, named for the ancient clay oven in which it is baked. Historically, Palestinian villages shared communal taboon ovens: places not only to bake bread, but to meet, exchange stories and news, and sustain community.

We grew up hearing our parents speak of being sent to the communal taboon with prepared dough to be baked into the family’s bread for the day. Perhaps that is why musakhan feels so instinctively made for hosting. It brings everyone to the same place. For Palestinians scattered across the world, food has always been one of the ways of carrying home forward. Recipes travel through families, crossing borders and generations, preserving flavours, memories and a connection to a place that many of us inherited rather than knew firsthand.

- Ruba and Mona

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My first attemp at Muskhan and it was sensational!

I have been fortunate enough to make this dish three times in three weeks, each time I love it more than the last. It is not only a weekend favourite, I find if I slice the onions the day before and put them in an airtight container in the fridge, then the preparation is actually quite straight forward for a weeknight meal.

I cannot wait to show you what you can do with left over chicken and rice. But I will save that for another post.

Tomorrow is Friday everyone,

Go gently, as my year 10 English teacher used to say.

Karima xx

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So, as it turns out, you can cook a dish from memory after tasting it for the very first time.

I had these green beans in Tripoli, Lebanon, as part of a mezza spread at a seafood restaurant in Al Mina. There were more than 20 different dishes on the table, the kind of feast where everything is designed to be eaten alongside fresh fish. And yet, somehow, these green beans stole the show.

They were spicy, the walnut paste was more of a loose slurry than a thick sauce, and the beans were just cooked which, in my opinion, is the very best way to eat them.

When I came home and started thinking about that dish, I realised Lebanese people actually preserve green beans in a very similar way, using a mixture of walnuts, chilli and plenty of extra virgin olive oil. They’re served as part of a mezza, eaten alongside everything else on the table.

This version is incredibly simple and insanely addictive. The kind of dish I just know is going to become a party trick, something you’ll whip out whenever green beans are abundant and you’re hosting.

But don’t save them just for guests. They also happen to be the perfect side to almost any protein. So yes, very much a midweek essential too.

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I just knew that when Abdul got home he would want to open up the new bottle of Arak Brun we got from Domaine des Tourelles, a winery in Lebanon that has been making some of the best arak (and wine) for decades. If you havent seen my previous post My Lebanon Guide 2026, its good, really good. And what better dish to go with arak then kibbeh nayyeh on a balmy spring night.

Barrels of Arak ageing at Domaine des Tourelles, Bekaa Valley Lebanon.

Before I go, I will be at the Australian Native Food Festival at Carriageworks again this year on the 26th of September, cooking on the demonstration stage with Rayleen Brown, culinary educator who has so much knowledge of indigenous ingredients and foods. I will be cooking Lebanese pastries using native ingredients and together Rayleen and I will be exploring the deep connections between Aboriginal and Lebanese food traditions. Both cultures share a profound respect for Country, seasonal ingredients and the stories held within food. I have linked the tickets here.

On the stage at last years Australian Native Food Festival, with the wonderful founder Sharon Winsor and Rayleen brown.

Have the best week,

Karima xo

Raouche Beirut, image taken by me at Al Falamanki Restaurant

Can I share something with you?

I started working on this list and guide before I left for Lebanon, but what I didn’t imagine or expect was to be absolutely blown away by the generosity and hospitality of the friends and family we visited, and the places they shared with us along the way.

I travelled to Lebanon from mid-July until mid-August 2026 with my husband, Abdul - who we affectionately nicknamed the Fresh Prince of Beirut, because his family are Beirutis - and my two daughters, Layla, who had just turned nine, and Eden, who is six and a half.

My last trip to Lebanon was ten years ago.

And in some ways, that ten-year gap was a blessing in disguise, at least if this guide has anything to do with it.

I say that because Lebanon can be a very territorial place. The more you visit, the less you feel the need to venture outside of your own little territory. It’s easy to become comfortable visiting family, going to the occasional beach club close to wherever you are based, and trying the new places that have opened up in Beirut.

But this trip was different.

This trip was about showing my daughters, Layla and Eden, who they are as Lebanese people and where they come from.

For me, it was about immersing myself in the Lebanon I knew was out there waiting for me.

Because that’s what Lebanon does.

She opens her arms wide and embraces those who come to see her.

And this time, we let her.

We travelled beyond the places I remembered and the places that felt familiar. We followed recommendations, accepted invitations and sat at tables with people who were excited to show us their villages, their landscapes, their food and their Lebanon.

And along the way, I realised that this guide was becoming something much more than a list of places to eat, stay and visit.

It was becoming a collection of the people who welcomed us in.

A reminder that some of the most beautiful experiences in Lebanon cannot be found by searching for them. They are shared with you. They come through an invitation to someone’s home, a recommendation from a friend, an extra plate placed on the table, or someone insisting that you take the longer road because there is something they simply have to show you along the way.

This is the Lebanon I wanted my daughters to know.

The Lebanon of generosity. Of family. Of mountains and villages. Of tables overflowing with food. Of strangers who become friends. Of stories passed from one generation to the next.

And so, this guide is my way of sharing a little of what Lebanon shared with us.

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I really wanted my first Substack back from Lebanon to be my Lebanon guide - so many people have asked me for - but it seems to be taking me a little longer than I had anticipated to put it together (probably also the jetlag). But I assure you its coming!

This recipe for shish tawouk however does not require that much time or effort at all (except for the marinating part). The result is absolutely delicious, so I do encourage you to give this a go next time you plan on firing up the barbecue.

Please give this one a go!

xxx

When my friend Habib posted a video of his enormous mandarin tree on Instagram, laden with so much fruit that the branches were struggling to hold themselves up - smallah, as we say in Arabic, I immediately asked if I could have some. Home-grown mandarins are one of my absolute favourite things to eat in winter.

He arrived the next day with a 25-litre Bunnings bucket filled to the brim with mandarins. I was initially shocked, mostly with joy, as I already had so many mandarin recipes saved: jams, dried slices for drinks, cakes and desserts. But at the same time, I wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

Because this kind of generosity is what I’ve known my whole life. It’s simply Lebanese hospitality - abundant, generous, and always given with the best of intentions.

I set out to make a mandarin and almond cake, the kind where you boil the fruit whole and use everything, skin and all, so it simply had to be made with fresh, home-grown mandarins.

I also wanted to make it for my mum, who was recently diagnosed as coeliac. I knew she would appreciate a slice of cake she could actually eat, with a cup of tea.

This cake ofcourse got shared around, I cut it into quarters and kept a quarter here, gave a quarter to mum and gave the other half to my neighbours, whilst it was still warm. My neighbour Mary was so grateful, and just seeing her face light up when I popped over to give it to her was pure joy.

Have a beautiful week,

Karima

It may look like the hero here is the golden chicken and roasted potatoes, but in my kitchen, the real hero is what’s underneath it all, the freekeh, quietly soaking up every drop of those pan juices.

For those who didn’t grow up in a Lebanese home where freekeh was always tucked away in the pantry (or brought back in suitcases after trips to Lebanon), it’s an ancient grain from the Levant eaten across Lebanon, Syria, and Palestine.

Legend has it that thousands of years ago, a village’s young wheat fields were set alight during an invasion. After the fire passed, the villagers discovered the grains inside the charred husks were still intact. They rubbed away the burnt layers, cooked them, and found something completely unexpected - a smoky, nutty grain unlike anything they had tasted before.

And so, freekeh was born.

The word itself comes from the Arabic “to rub”, referring to the process of removing those burnt husks.

What I love most is that something born from resilience and resourcefulness has become one of the most nourishing staples in Lebanese cooking, naturally high in fibre, rich in protein, and just so deeply satisfying.

But more than anything, it’s the way it cooks. Absorbing everything it’s paired with, it turns a simple tray of chicken into something grounding, generous, and deeply comforting.

The kind of food that doesn’t just feed you, it stays with you.

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Recently, I was at an event speaking with a friend who also works in food media. As we chatted about work, deadlines, opportunities and the general chaos of content creation, she described our industry as “feast or famine.”

I’d never heard that expression used in this context before, but the moment she said it, I knew exactly what she meant.

For weeks, things can feel quiet. You wonder where the next project is coming from, you catch your breath, organise your life and promise yourself that when things get busy again you’ll be ready. Then suddenly, all at once, every opportunity, deadline and commitment arrives on the same day.

As I sat there feeling completely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of work on my plate, she looked at me and said, “You’re in the feast.”

Then she added something that has stayed with me ever since: “Don’t you wish you’d rested a little more when you were in the famine?”

The truth is, she was right.

Only a few weeks earlier I had been telling myself I should be doing more, creating more and planning more. Instead of embracing the quieter period, I spent much of it worrying about the busy season ahead.

And then, inevitably, the feast arrived.

The last two weeks have been full in the best possible way, but they’ve also reminded me that rest isn’t something we earn after the work is done. It’s something we need to embrace while we have the chance.

Then, last week, my father-in-law arrived with a giant garbage bag full of silverbeet from his garden. Not a basket, not a box, a garbage bag, because there was simply too much of it to fit anywhere else.

I’d been thinking a lot about slow winter cooking and how much I’d been craving it. The kind of cooking that asks you to linger in the kitchen a little longer. The kind that fills the house with warmth and gives your hands something repetitive and comforting to do. But between work, deadlines and life, I hadn’t really given myself permission to indulge in it.

That oversized bag of silverbeet felt like a sign.

I hope you get a chance to make this one day! Its the kind of cooking that rewards patience. A true winter meal, designed for slow afternoons, crowded tables and the simple pleasure of gathering around a pot that's been gently bubbling away for hours.

Have the best week,

Karima xo

Seeing the tomatoes instantly put me in a good mood, I mean how could they not, its miserable and raining outside, all of my laundry is still damp since Saturday, and these babies were just staring at me.

For those of you unfamiliar with shankish, it is a fermented cheese, the by product of spoiling and drying yogurt, it has a slightly funky, slightly salty taste, crumbly texture and a good amount of heat from the chilli. It is rolled in oil and zaatar and eaten as part of a breakfast or mezza spread. I make it regularly and might post the recipe here one day, otherwise it is found at Arab grocers and some delis, always in the fridge section.

Looking forward to this weekends Sunday Kitchen Vegetarian cooking class which again was sold out and has now got two spots available due to a cancelled interstate trip for two of our guests.

I have popped the link here, should you find yourself wanting (and able) to come and learn how to make Vegetarian vine leaves in all of their lemony glory, Mums Smokey Baba Ghanouj and our famous Deluxe Fattoush amongst a few other dishes.

Karima xo

Anyway I had back up for them in the freezer, trusty old Sara Lee frozen chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream.

Happy Birthday Abdul!

This cake is so delicious and utterly indulgent, but no, for those of you wondering, I didnt eat the whole thing on my own. I gave some to Mum and the other half to the lovely office ladies at my daughters school who sent me the kindest email thanking me. I must say though, I do also love a slice of good ol’ Sara Lee chocolate cake with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream!

Hope you have the best week,

Karima xo

I know there is a long list of ingredients but I can assure you it comes together quite easily. I am usually up early and I will prep the kafta mince and raw vegetables and the sauce so that for dinner I am just browning the kafta and vegetables and adding the sauce and baking. Otherwise you could do the prep the night before, whatever works for you. Then whilst the traybake is in the oven the rice pot goes on and voila!

Cooking classes kick off this weekend with our Breakfast session which I am so looking forward to! We have had two spots come available due to an unfortunate cancellation so if you would like to spend the morning with Mum and I making zaatar manoush, labneh, fatteh and foul medammas, then this is your sign.

The next two sessions are :

Vegetarian: Saturday 30th May (2 spots available)

Fish: Saturday 20th June (4 spots available)

I have also mentioned in a previous substack we have a very special Living Well session at Moonacres Cooking School coming up in June. You can read more about it here and if you would like to join us, it will be a truly one of a kind session!

Thats all from me for today,

Karima xo

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Monday afternoon I returned home from an insane few days in Melbourne, cooking at one of my favourite restaurants in Australia, Zareh, owned by one of my favourite chefs, Tom Sarafian. Even just reading that sentence back gives me goosebumps, because I know that when I sit down one day to reflect on career highlights, that weekend will be right up there.

My dear friend Jinane - who also happens to be Tom’s partner and the backbone of the restaurant - asked if I wanted to cook for a fundraiser to raise much-needed funds for Lebanon via Beit el Baraka. Of course I jumped at the opportunity. The feeling of helplessness over the past few months, watching everything unfold through my phone, has been painfully overwhelming.

We curated a menu for a Sunday lunch and dinner, and after many phone calls and WhatsApp messages, the weekend finally arrived.

It sold out - 45 guests per sitting. We cooked with some of the most incredible local produce and paired the dishes with Lebanese wines from some of the country’s greatest winemakers. The menu was intentionally seasonal and inspired by the south of Lebanon, the region suffering the most right now.

The tables were set with Lebanese olives from the south, alongside plates of house-pickled radishes and Armenian cucumbers. The first course was kibbeh nayyeh frakkeh, served with Lebanese extra virgin olive oil and saj bread, freshly baked by Jinane’s mum, Najla, a wonderful cook herself.

For mains, we served goat from Meredith Farm, roasted in the woodfire oven on a bed of smoky freekeh, adorned with Lebanese pine nuts, almonds, currants, and fresh pomegranate. On the side, we did a version of my mum’s eggplant and yoghurt dip—what we call Tabbouch dip in our cookbook Sofra—served with fried Lebanese bread dusted generously in zaatar. There was also a plate of wild greens, hindbeh with a mountain of fried onions, and a sugarloaf cabbage salad with plenty of sumac, local purslane, and fresh Lebanese oregano.

Dessert was halawet el jibn, a handmade sweet cheese pastry filled with ashta, dressed with pistachios, and a cardamom and apricot syrup.

There was live music by acclaimed Lebanese musician Camille El Feghali, and the energy in the room at both sittings was electric. Guests came from interstate, some celebrating birthdays and anniversaries, but mostly, people came together in solidarity, wanting to do something, anything, to help Lebanon.

It was by far one of the most enjoyable events to be part of and due to everyones pure intentions, it just flowed so well. By the end of the day, we had raised almost $30,000 - and created memories that will stay with me for a lifetime.

I was incredibly exhausted when I got home. Of course, there was washing to catch up on, groceries to organise, and preparation for the week ahead. Normally, I would add to that exhaustion by trying to do everything the moment I walked through the door - which is usually the fastest way to ruin the high.

But this time, I didn’t.

Instead, I made myself a bowl of fruit, yoghurt, and granola, the only thing I feel like eating after a marathon of intense cooking, sat on my balcony, and let it all settle.

I felt proud, not just of what we achieved over the weekend, but of allowing myself to actually sit in it and pat myself on the back, something I dont think I have ever actually done before. To reflect on what I’d love to do again, what I might do differently, and above all, to just enjoy the space of it all.

I hope you get a chance to make this granola on the weekend, and if not this weekend, sometime soon.

Karima xo

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