Therapy in Red Carrots

It’s almost the end of the crazy weekend. It’s early Friday morning and I’m tired and exhausted from the crazy week that just passed. I say a quick prayer of gratitude that nothing’s changed. Crazy is good, means life is normal and we are healthy enough to deal with it. So thanks to big man upstairs for that.

Everyone always says there is a form a therapy in the kitchen. I know many people who will completely disagree with that point and to them whipping up any sort of meal is a complete nightmare.

But for me, it’s therapy. At least when I’m baking or cooking what my mind desires.

It’s almost like I never leave the kitchen. Just different kitchens. I

t’s like we have some sort of magnetic connection. Even when I leave it I end up back in it.

Ironically I spend my whole day working in a bakery. Where it’s always very stressful and chaotic. But I thrive in chaos.

But when I’m at home,  I can just do what I want, it becomes a form of meditation for me. It’s just me and my kitchen.

I get so focused in what I am creating that I almost can block out the kids screaming and fighting over the last chocolate croissant. Almost.

Today’s morning therapy is Red Carrot Jam. Red carrot jam is a very old traditional Egyptian jam. I grew up on it. My Grandma used to make it and my mom used to make it. I would eagerly wait for the time of year where they would be available

Red carrots are a deliciously sweet carrot that almost is like a sweet potatoe but carrot like. In Egypt they appear for a very short period of time in the winter. And generally really hard to find.Red carrots are sold along the streets of Cairo with bright vibrant colors of intense orange and red. They taste sweeter and have an intensely deep color.

I love roasting them in the oven with other vegetables. But today we will make jam.

I never understand why they don’t plant more of these. They are delicious even raw. I love them. As I spend my morning peeling , cleaning and cutting them I remember how excited my mom would be when she would get her hands on some. As my brain was trying to remember  where I put that bottle of cloves I could distinctly remember the taste of my moms jam. And hoping I could pull off a jar as good as hers. A smile came across my face as a looked down on the pot of boiling pieces of red candied carrots. And the aroma of the cloves filling my kitchen. I’m suddenly at peace.


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