There’s something endearing about a grandmother’s culinary concoctions. Whether it was a fresh batch of baked goods or a cosy meal of slow-cooked lamb, it was like they were gifted with the ability to impart that extra special ingredient into anything their hands could make. No restaurant could replicate that feeling — that sensation of a warm hug with each spoonful of food.
Last Christmas, I was paging through old scrapbooks and faded memories etched in ink and paper, and an old recipe caught my eye: a cosy one-pot spring chicken dish. It brought me back to the days when life seemed more colourful — when, on chilly days and winter nights, she would whip up this warm and flavourful dish for the few of us who braved the cold to arrive at her doorstep for dinner.