We all hear of superfoods - Goji berries, chia seeds… the list goes on and changes like the seasons. Fortunately, emotions don’t follow these trends, but as we head into the season of gratitude, let me highlight why it is your Superpower and why it’s the ingredient you’ll want in your morning mental smoothie.

I know... some of you will not see relocating as an "art" . Perhaps viewing it more of an extremely daunting prospect, a discomfort to be avoided, or just something that other people do. Particularly, of course if it involves not a mere change of post code, but a move that crosses time zones and international date lines. We benefit from a built-in bias around the beauty of staying put. Home is where our friends are, or the kids live, or the climate suits. It's where we "belon

Our understanding of the contemporary meaning of etiquette is possibly aligned with what the dictionary tells us - "The mindful, intentional practice of creating respectful, kind, orderly interactions". It still feels like a term that will always be a little distant, perhaps the domain of the snobby English, the word itself residing in a tidy cottage, somewhere near Wimbledon. We see the meaning plainly - as the opposite of queue jumping or asking a woman how old she is. Thi

OK.. I will admit, I did not know that was what a pre-picked lentil looked like. Which got me thinking around what else I did not know about lentils - and don't imagine I am suicidally bored, or at the wrong end of a bag of California's finest gummies. There is always a tin in the cupboard, thanks to Vanessa, who will gleefully stir them into to pretty much anything. I saw lentils more as a food to be consumed when all else is gone. When the sirens blast, sending us scurrying

Admit it or not, we all admire the effortless, DNA chic of the French. They could throw a bolt of fabric down the stairs of the Paris Métro and it would somehow have design purpose. What makes things that are put here or placed there, so utterly “French”? It's a big country with distinct and varied regions, each with their own style, so defining it as a particular binary “look” would be impossible. No matter where you find yourself in France, there is that unmistakeable  “ je

Why is it, when we see the ruins of a great castle, the knarl of an ancient olive tree or the oldest grave in the cemetery, we become so awestruck and admiring? We are so absolutely enchanted by the sheer age of things. We respect them. We willingly keep off the grass of history. We admire the flaws and crumbling imperfections. We feel a loving and protective instinct, despite no sense of personal ownership. It runs deep in us and we feel proud to be a product of our creative

Hello again dear members and readers of Brave Seeds - "La voix de Platform 13" - That is a free French pun, by the way - Voix means voice, and Voie (pronounced the same) is the railway line that runs along the patform.. funny non? Maybe it is Belgian humour, which is more sophisticated..

In France, where "bread is life", what happens when the bakery closes? Few countries keep such extensive data around bakeries as France does. According to a 2017 government report, 73% of the French population lived within half a mile of a Boulangerie. Of course, in a country where 8-out-of 10 people live in largely urban areas, it is plainly not a city-dwellers problem. It is in rural France where the loss of the village bakery strikes like a family bereavement. For the purp

Friends often tell me they dream of picking up and moving abroad. That is, until the thought of  logistics, language, visas… makes it feel too daunting a challenge. Change is hard when our ego says we are " fine where we are ", but there's more to it than that. Where do we even begin? Perhaps just begin, by beginning… A little about little me first… When I was eight years old, I was watching my mom put on makeup, when I blurted out “I want to move.” Confused, my mom asked “oh

"Labeling makes the invisible visible, but it’s limiting. Categories are the enemy of connecting." ~Gloria Stienem www.theletgo.com Everywhere we turn, there’s a statement about who we are—based not on our being, but our doing. And often, those statements trace back to childhood trauma, as if our adult choices are merely echoes of early wounds. We are constantly offered explanations, often unsolicited, that attempt to decode our lives through the lens of lack. But what if our

Is food really better in France? Not in that romantic "strolling through the market with a cute wicker basket" way, but in a pure sense of basic taste. And I am not talking about Michelin-starred fine dining or €500 truffle tastings. I am referring to bread, cheese or tomatoes. A roasted "poulet frites" in a budget bistro. The kind of food that should be pedestrian enough not to even warrant effusive praise, yet still makes you pause, mid-mouthful and smile. Butter, infused w

The French have a verb for a very specific pastime. The dictionary has it as - Flâner… (v) to wander about with no particular purpose. Pronounced - flan - as in pan and ay - as in hay.  She  (or indeed he  - Le Flâneur ) was an individual who elegantly ambled the streets and squares with no desire to get anywhere specific, but simply to be there.  To observe. To absorb. To walk with no agenda other than the call of curiosity.

Hello to Platform 13 and to their dedicated readers... So a brief intro to me... I am first and foremost a food lover. Originally from Antwerp in Belgium, I trained as a chef in the culinary schools of France, but the kitchen garden is where I feel most at home. All that is cooking for me and for my partner Kris, is about love, feeding our guests, friends and family with the goodness of our adopted French seasons. Simple stuff, done with love.

There are few ingredients as humbly useful as the onion. It appears in every kitchen, at every stage of unprompted regrowth and under every list of ingredients. Raw and sharp in summer salads, melted and brown in winter stews, or quietly working in the background of rich sauces, often without due credit. The French don’t just cook with onions — they have built the entirety of French cuisine around them. France grows more onions than any other country in Europe, and you can ta

It is all well and good to throw buzz-words around, but one that often comes up in casual conversation these days, is ‘frequency’. Like most expressions, it can mean different things to different people and yet actually, is very rooted in science. Not in a “my frequency is like..so off today” as though you‘re just having a bad hair day, but involving physics…a real exchange of energy with the environment and people - total friends or total strangers. We’ve all been in a room

This is something I came to learn very late in life, having never questioned my beliefs or my decisions. I’ve since found so many areas in my life where I blindly accepted that my beliefs just are what they are, fixed in time, and my decisions simply followed. Turning things upside down to get a different perspective, allowing myself to question things and decide again, has become such a valuable tool. I like to think of it as “curiosity with benefits”. As young children, oft

Golden apples. The asteroid-like quince is the last fruit to ripen - the one that waits until the year breathes out. Hard and bitter when raw, it softens only through patience and care. Once sacred to Aphrodite, it remains a quiet symbol of transformation: if you take your time, you'll get your reward. It's not the best looking fruit in the orchard, but nature is not so bothered with looks. Perfect imperfection is sometimes just right. The quince is a golden relic of autumn t

The rather sultry soundtrack of November is not only about cold fingers tapping on the barometer and raindrops on rooftops. Over the ploughed and purposeful fields of Lot et Garonne, the air is full with the honky tonk of departing geese. Like feathered fighter jets, you will hear them before you see them — a ragged, cloud-bound squadron, formed as a straggly V, calling desperatey to each other to keep things together. It's comfortingly instinctive - a DNA thing. I love seein

This month, rather than a focus on food and what makes our table groan, we feel a bit caught up in remebrance. Of course that in itself is quite fitting for November. It is a month roomy with retrospection, governed for most of us through the memorial of the 11th hour of the 11th day, to the waste they called "Great War".

Every nation tends to make a contribution to the great theatre of style. England gave us understatement, Italy provided road rage and France — with predictable irony — gave us austerity disguised as art. The word silhouette began not as a term of beauty, but of mockery. Étienne de Silhouette, was the well intentioned but disastrously unpopular 1759 French finance minister. He tried very hard tried to balance the Nations chequebook after yet another costly skirmish with the E