I grew up wearing shades of watermelon, tangerine and aqua; colors I was taught by my mother. In our home, there was never use of the unadorned word blue, only baby blue, navy blue, royal blue and petrol. This is how she saw the world and what drove (...)
When I was in the 6th grade, a beautiful girl, blond and bright-eyed, walked into class midday to unknowingly capture the hearts of boys that we had marked as our own for the future. There was not a girl in class that did not feel the sting, an (...)
For years, my phone would not ring. It would rest beside me, disturbing nothing, a simple prop in the room. To Cairo, Kuala Lumpur was at the farthest corner of our Earth and needed no attention paid except for the dreamy package deal honeymoon of a (...)
I pressed a thin veil of tissue against my wounded knuckle, watching it absorb the red seeping out. “Stupid grater,” I mumbled as my husband laughed, reasoning with me that it was in reality a simple gadget, incapable of stupidity and that I was (...)
I never thought I would miss Malaysia but I find myself regressing, filling myself with nostalgic desires, hoping to smell the salty stench of tandoori chicken as I lower my window to Cairo's smog. For close to four years, I stalked the streets of (...)
I stretched, laying flat, fingers flopping around my side table in search of something to pull my hair up and away from my pillow-creased face. Happy to see some sun moving stealthily into the farthest corner, my corner of our room, I turned to find (...)
I am so uninterested in shopping with friends that I cannot hide my indifference. A lone shopper, I saunter through the passages of ladies' fashion inattentive to the new styles emerging in place of past fads; I buy what sits comfortably on my hips, (...)
There's a calming medicament in our home for the common cold; it paints in tinges of pink the cheeks of the runny-nosed, enlivens the spirits of the feverishly faint, and layers the room with the luxurious scent of true vanilla: pancakes.
Taking (...)
I've been on a bad food binge. Throughout years of conscientious Asian-influenced eating in Kuala Lumpur, I missed the grease that many Egyptian dishes brought to the many mouths I've shared meals with. “Bring it on, Cairo!” I squealed as my big (...)
I know a boy with a golden smile that outshines his speckled eyes and curly locks woven with tones of clear honey and pale lager. A deliberately early riser, he gets high on dancing in front of the television and playing air guitar while the rest of (...)
I stepped into a friend's cramped kitchen, cluttered with crusty teaspoons taking a mud bath in coffee-stained mugs, working to sustain the whims of a bachelor who would order out more often than not.
Despite my friend's phony cries for help, (...)
How do you celebrate failure? Do you examine your inner self, well hidden under a poised smile? Do you shatter like tempered glass crumbling into dull-edged pieces? Do you try, try again?
A year has passed since the events of last January and I'm (...)
A particular smell connects me to both my home countries. It is a scent that I do not care for much but will not cower away from when it is presented to me — sweetly creeping up on me, playfully tickling my nose, at times coming a step too close for (...)
I will never run after donuts, long for frosting or fantasize about a smooth square of chocolate coating my tongue with its melted magic. Shiny black olives, bubbling cheese, crunchy pickled carrots and crusty bread smeared with salted butter — this (...)
We sit in the sticky tropical heat, a lone cat observing us from afar, wondering with a tilt of its head, why we have occupied her bench with our derrieres. In reality, it is not the cat's fault. We rarely sit on my friend's bench in her garden (...)
Pressing play, my sister begins showing the first few minutes of a home video — our trip to France and Italy in 1995. We throw our heads back in laughter, discuss our bizarre choice of clothing and animatedly point out funny moments to our husbands, (...)
On the 10th day of the 10th month of 2010, I broke my finger and made an unexpected friend.
Irrespective of the pressing need to operate, it was not until a week later, after the kids were cured of their cold, that I would have to submit to (...)
There is no greater way to describe how I feel after voting other than that I feel like an idiot.
Did I know any of these people I voted for? No. Had I even heard of them before? No. Could I find any decent reading material about what these (...)
I put my new clothes on, tugged on my pretty jacket and straightened my back with my head held high, trying to preen in front of the mirror. Watching my mother from the sidelines applying a sleek stroke of liquid eyeliner, I wondered when I too (...)
When my mother is in the kitchen, she likes to talk about my grandmother; I don't think she realizes that it has become a pattern. As she stirs, today a creamy mushroom soup, tomorrow some strawberry jam thickening on the stove, she remembers her (...)
I have placed my fingers on the keys, waiting for an idea to take control of my hands, to lead the way to thoughts that might hold some significance in light of our recent events. What can I say in a column based on food experiences, based on (...)
When you visit a restaurant, what do you look for? The things that have me coming back are simple. Welcoming service and an attentive staff, palate-pleasing food and no conspicuous hygienic horrors – these are the only things I require. Pleasant (...)
Some people prefer to turn their ovens on in the colder months. Come autumn, they start devoting hours, curled up in their most comfortable spot at home, researching recipes that require the warmth of a preheated oven. Food bloggers worldwide type (...)
I recently met the gardener taking care of our quaint patch of grass. Wanting to get into gardening for a year now and taking it upon myself to research what needed to be done, I could not wait to finally speak with him about what we could do to (...)
Despite readily agreeing that it is ideal to end a meal with a chocolate-based dessert — especially when hosting a dinner party — on regular days I find myself picking a non-chocolate option. A pavlova, crème brulee or a neat slice of lemon meringue (...)