From Waco to Beirut… And It’s never gonna be Perfect

I wanted it to be a perfect life. It was never ordinary. Until I realized that it was. There are people you meet, who grant you the illusion of eternity. The illusion of life. And then they leave. And you realize that they, too, were ordinary.

There are books you read to pretend you are educated. And then there are others who become a love letter to a life you will never live. Yet somehow, they grant you the illusion of living it. And all that life could be. If only you weren't ordinary.

I discovered Joanna Gaines in 2017 after one of many jumps into different sections of the newspaper(Annahar), where I stayed for 30 years. They asked me to transform the kitchen into a story. As extraordinary as life. If only it wasn't ordinary.

MAGNOLIA TABLE was my first entrance into her world, along with her husband Chip and their five children. They lived in Waco Texas on a farm they transformed into their haven. They reshaped houses into homes. And she also loved the kitchen.

I lived with my parents in a very old Beiruti apartment we had virtually reconstructed, thanks to my father's ability to grant us the illusion of life, into a monument worthy of display. I wrote stories about delusional people. I too was in love with the kitchen.

It was not an ordinary cookbook. It was a nostalgic, rhythmic prose dedicated to family life. Full of anecdotes we usually share with our friends, and oftentimes, strangers in the hope that they will not listen.

The recipes were also a letter of love to those whose presence are all we need to understand just how extraordinary life is.
If only it wasn't ordinary.

Joanna Gaines allows us, readers, to turn our kitchen into a secret garden, where every ingredient belongs to a family member, and every failed recipe becomes a grand entrance inside the world of intimacy with those we share our lives with. Until they leave, and life becomes ordinary.

Joanna's roots trace back to Lebanon. and she invites us in the most down to earth manner, to treat our recipes into a moment of exchanged whispered conversation. No pressure, No anxiety, No unnecessary need for perfection.

But I always wanted it to be a perfect life.

Three decades in Annahar newspaper were enough for me to understand that perfection kills life, joy, and talent.
What remains is what we give from the heart. What flows from our veins.

Oftentimes in 2017, I'd imagine myself in Waco, cooking for my parents and my fur daughter Berry with no skill other than love, hunger, and a desire to create memories.

Joanna admits that perfection exhausted her, and made her realize that the only thing that matters is the love we pour onto the dough, or pastries, pasta, and soup. 
There is no use to reinvent flavors in order to shine.
But it is okay to add some mashed potatoes in bread dough to give it more texture.

And don't get me talking about the delicious, succulent, luscious butter she uses in most meals without fearing those who judge. Or strive for a new healthier kind of perfection. 

Joanna makes us understand that a recipe is a family secret made of laughter, a few tears, gossip, and exchanged fears around a table where conversations live on even when life becomes ordinary again.

It is the Lebanese in her creating abundance,  highlighting the need to be together at every meal to dissect the amount of cinnamon, cardamom, basil, Truffle, banana in each recipe. 

 Chaos is only beautiful when we share it together. And herbs are tastier when we grow them in our garden, however big or small it happens to be. 

Food can only  be tasty when it carries the scent of togetherness that only too soon becomes a distant memory.

Each dish tells the story of a whole family.
 Traditions left behind. 

olive oil poured a bit too generously alongside the aromatic, sizzling, melting butter, could be one of the strong signs that we once belonged.