It is a common experience to feel the love of the cook in the food they serve us- that intangible essence that infuses their food, somehow elevating an ordinary meal into food for the soul.
How do they do that? What is it?
I’m not exactly sure, but I know I feel it; that I feel compelled to turn my life towards it, to be near it, and to try as I can to cultivate the qualities and conditions for it to come about in my life and in the food I make.
It’s hit or miss. Not every meal and moment is blissful, but then not everything worth our while is. And so I carry on each day… I prepare ingredients, I cook, I find joy in serving you; each day feeding this story, this art, my living meditation.
May these poetic recipes inspire the warm-hearted cook in you.
Love,
Alissa

it is early May when
a small herd of five Jersey cows
walk from the barn and out towards their first taste of spring grass.

We stood at the stove together, my guest and I, peering into a pot of bubbling soup.
Vegetables rinsed, chopped and layered in together, the conversation flowed easily, anchored down in moments of pausing, sensing the ingredients and their evolution before us.
A quiet settled in.


It’s late winter, tree branches bare outside Pete’s window as we stand inside by the stove and in the quiet of his kitchen. 72 and a retired working man, I’m there to help him roast his first chicken....

It's the end of a long, draining day, the darkness of November 2020 has set in. My body stiff with stress, now flat out, depleted and deflating onto the couch, attention straining towards glimmers of rest and renewal....
A visual recipe + meditation to help you experience the calm of cooking, and reverence for the ingredient, while celebrating the winter season.

Let me tell you about a kick-ass woman I’ve been lucky to meet, whose voice I hear first across the telephone line, frail, 90 years old, and quiet. She invites me into her home for tea and here we are seated at her kitchen table and she looks into my eyes and tells me how hungry she is....
It doesn’t cease to amaze me how good things in life are so often hidden underfoot, quietly and slowly forming the path beneath our wandering and restless feet.
Prompted by something that catches our attention, we may look up from our little world of each little step, and see a view that relaxes into something imbued with purpose.
I can’t help but wonder if you here with me now, is another one of those good things along the path, revealed.
I’m looking up and I see you.
What brought you here?
Making delicious food, to inspire connection, reverence and joy.