About the Author | Murielle Banackissa is a food photographer, recipe developer, and food stylist based in Montreal. Outside of spending hours developing new recipes and shooting them in her home studio, Murielle loves paying attention to the details surrounding her as a way to feel more grounded and present. From water droplets resting on leaves after rainfall, to the golden glow of summer nights, to the way yeasted dough rises under the ideal conditions, she is always seeking the magic in seemingly mundane moments. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. EXCERPT FROM THE INTRODUCTIONMy earliest food memories are of my early childhood in the Republic of Congo. I was born in a coastal town called Pointe-Noire, where I lived for the first eight years of my life, often heading to the beach on school lunch breaks with my mom to catch the low tide. I remember the warm, clear, light blue water, the white sand, and how far I could walk into the ocean before even half of my body was submerged in the saltwater. I was blessed to have an early childhood characterized by slow, intentional living, and a close connection to nature. I loved climbing our backyard trees to get a better view of our house, crushing tropical flowers together to create “perfume” for my mom, observing the snails and slugs that would appear on our doorstep after a torrential rainfall, and playing with colors on canvas in painting lessons.In August 2002, my family came to arrive in Montreal, Canada. There were multiple shock factors: the sounds (I never thought cities could be so loud!), the language (although Congo’s main language is also French, Quebec vocabulary and accent are unique), and, of course, the food. My mom became the primary cook in our household, which allowed her to reconnect with some of her own Russian culinary heritage as she dedicated her precious time to experimenting in the kitchen to create tasty dishes.Some of my most cherished memories are of the weekends after church: my family and our friends―many hailing from different continents―would gather at each other’s houses with dishes of food, often from our native countries (stuffed cabbage rolls from Ukraine, sauerkraut from Estonia). Through these meals, I realized the power that food has to forge a community. All those colors, textures, and flavors were a true feast for my senses, each dish helping me develop my palate and appreciate the love and care that went into cooking it. It was the beginning of my food journey.Food―preparing it, sharing it―is something I want to take my time with. Through food-filled gatherings with my family’s church friends in Pointe-Noire; to weekend mornings in Montreal, my mom preparing her crepes or French toasts; to my solo college weekends when I would pore over a new recipe; to meeting my husband, Sam, and discovering a whole new world of flavors through our travels together and his own family history, I’ve come to realize that food is an anchor, it’s love. And it’s my way of showing love to all those who matter to me―and now, to the world―through the recipes I share with you in this cookbook.Dedicating an entire evening to preparing dinner, or investing a few extra moments in grilling additional flavor into the peaches to top waffles for a decadent Sunday brunch, allows me to delve deeper into my food journey, uncovering flavors, textures, and stories behind the dishes. There is something so satisfying about choosing to consciously slow down and create a dish of my own―or to execute someone else’s recipe―without distractions. I get in a zone where I am fully present and connected to the food, attentive to how it changes as it cooks slowly on the stove or bakes in the oven. And I feel a sense of excitement when a recipe calls for refrigeration to allow for the recipe to come together! Spending time in the kitchen preparing food is about love―for food, for yourself, and for others. |