Small hands on wooden spoon. Large hand over mine. On my mother’s hip. She holds me and the shiny silver bowl. Mixing dough.

The scent is all around me and within me. Laughter floats in the air. I feel it resonating from her.

Jars of clear bright orange marmalade sit atop the fridge.

It all starts in some time at some place.

My own babe, on my back. Sweet potatoes, brown rice, avocado, red onion. The scent is all around me and within me. Laughter floats in the air. I feel it resonating from him. Small hands playing with my hair.

I have a deep love of food.

The colour and scent of the materials. The flavor palettes of herbs and fats, proteins and acids.

The terroir. The clay and humus, the grass and rain. The flavors of land and sky.

The people we make and break bread with.

The hands and lives that work the soil and tend the fruit. The hands and lives that tend to husbandry.

The hands and lives that turn raw into finely finished.

The scents and sounds that surround and envelop us, in all the tiny moments. The people we bring to the table in each bite.

If you grow it yourself, or if you pick it up someplace else, it takes a community to bring you each bite you take.

Love. Respect. Gratitude.

That’s our motto at Heart and Hearth. For the people that make it possible for us to do what we love to do, for the people that walk through our door each day, for each other.

Hope to meet you at Heart and Hearth.