The Scent of Memory: An Evening in Hanna’s Kitchen

In Hanna’s warm kitchen, I discovered the ancient art of making Lebanese baklava—a journey that transcended mere cooking, taking me on a passage through time and culture.

With her patient guidance, I learned to handle the delicate phyllo dough with reverence, brushing each gossamer-thin sheet with golden butter until it gleamed. Layer by layer, we built our masterpiece, her movements flowing with the inherited grace of generations before her.

“Feel it,” she said, placing the fragile pastry in my hands and teaching me not just the technique, but also the connection to tradition.

When we poured rose and orange blossom syrup over our golden creation, fresh from the oven, it sizzled and released a cloud of fragrance that instantly transported me to Middle Eastern souks and sun-drenched courtyards. That aroma — complex, floral and deeply nostalgic — bridged continents and decades in a single breath.

Hanna’s extraordinary talent lies not only in her culinary expertise, but also in her ability to transform strangers into friends through the universal language of food. In her kitchen, cultural differences dissolved like sugar in warm tea, replaced by the shared understanding that comes from creating something beautiful together.

That first bite of our baklava was a revelation, not just in terms of flavour, but also in terms of the understanding that we had taken part in something timeless. It was more than a cooking class; it was a masterclass in humanity, taught by a woman who knows that the best recipes are not about ingredients, but about connection

by Lorenzo G.(passionate foodie)