love is at the bottom of a jar

It is no secret that I love food. My girlfriends in Cyprus laugh about my obsession with food and my conspiracy theories relating to calories and the nutritionist (more of that another time). But I am not ashamed to say I enjoy food. I also enjoy the kindness of strangers, especially when their kindness comes in a jar and is edible. 

So the granny of my friend at work gifted us with some wonderful jars of home made apricot marmalade which I have to say is one of the most delicious things i've ever spread on a cracker. Although to be honest we could just skip the cracker and just hand me spoon. 

photographs: my own

Marmalades and jams of any sort remind me so much of England and in particular my childhood. I remember my mum taking us to see her friend, who is a mastermind in the kitchen and could out-cook any Cypriot granny (yeah I said it) and her patience in the kitchen always wowed me. The aroma of freshly cooked bread oozing from her kitchen would make my smell senses stand to attention and I always knew there would be a jar of home made jam in her cupboard just waiting to be devoured. 

I love the memories that come flooding back with a smell, a taste or even a sight such as a jam jar.