I grew up saying A for Apple and now I’m older, all I do is say A for Agbalumo but still, apples rock. For many years of my life, I ate apples and drank apple juice and cider and did no more. I threw away apple skins and still ate my apples till my eyes...
This is an update on a 2012 post:). Still relevant though! Out with the old, in with the new. Ditch the cinnamon sticks and sweet fragrance of warm spice. Replace it with heat and heart. Crisscross apple sauce….you’ll have no regrets.
Because who doesn’t love the fragrance of summer and the crisp of fall on a sunny spring day. Think of this as apple pie meets lemon tart meets sweet pizza. Do you feel the vibe already? Bread dough in the fridge is one constant of many during this quarantine and we fashion it into everything...
Six months ago, I moved cities. It was hard, hard to leave what I knew and loved and had become used to. Here is Part 1 of many…I wrote back in October. —–00000—– How do you pack up memories Happy and sad How do you box up thoughts Ferry them across tar and concrete ‘Cause...
‘Children of Nowadays’, as we Nigerians would say, exasperated or marveling at some stroke of childhood genius…or not. Sometimes, hand on large African hips, an adult finger would point back at child… inquiring and seeking confirmation.
Welcome to my winter wonderland. After two years, my brolly wants to become a parachute, lured by the attraction of stormy weather, when autumn’s golden leaves slowly dance, passing the baton on to pretty bare branches and gusts of snow.
See these photos? Allow them tempt you…a teeny weeny bit. The recipe for this Tarte aux pommes et sucre will follow someday soon – I promise. As will that of the apple curd!
When I hear the wind bellow and scream, And see yellow leaves scurry Ochre ones run And russets scamper Into tree-line paths and winding driveways Gardens and front porches too When I feel the cold rain drops And watch them fall on the slant I know that Fall is come The season of apples and...
