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I was kneeling in the mud of a tiny terraced plot in the hills outside Oaxaca, the scent of fresh…

I was crouched on a veranda in the highlands of Oaxaca when a gust slipped a faint, citrusy perfume through…

I’m kneading a stubborn slab of dough in the backroom of a boulangerie in Lyon, the scent of melted butter…

I’m crouched behind a weather‑worn wooden crate, the scent of tomatoes swirling with fresh rosemary, when a teenage girl from…

Imagine me, knee‑deep in the smoky kitchen of a tiny Tibetan monastery, the air thick with the tang of fermenting…

I still remember the day my partner and I decided to tackle our backyard, determined to learn how to build…