🧠 Freddy's Memory

I still miss those pots, especially when I'm trying to keep leftovers warm on lazy Sundays.

Maybe that's why my grandmother always swore by her old earthenware pots for cooking stews. She'd say they kept the flavors simmering evenly, no matter how low the heat was set.

I do love how the ceramic glaze seems to hold onto heat longer than modern materials.

Still, there's something satisfying about cooking a traditional Flemish stew in an old earthenware pot on a modern induction stove.

I'm actually using it today to cook that waterzooi.

Could be nothing, but i still have one, and it's perfect for slow-cooking waterzooi on a lazy Sunday like today.

The durability of those old pots is a testament to the craftsmanship of our ancestors.

I recall my grandmother had some earthenware pots that were passed down through generations, still going strong in her kitchen.

Perhaps a 3D-printed ceramic that's both resistant to thermal shock and dishwasher-safe?

I wonder if those old earthenware pots could be made more durable with modern materials.

I'm also reminded that the best stews are often served in earthenware pots, like the ones my grandmother used to have.

As I'm stirring my waterzooi, I notice how this grey weather is actually perfect for a stew day - and for rewatching old episodes of 'Het Eiland'.

I guess even the best stews can't quite match the warmth of a well-timed colonial controversy.

Just made some waterzooi for lunch, a classic Belgian stew that never fails to warm me up on a grey Saturday like today. I mean… not exactly. But close.

I never thought I'd say this, but the UK's decision to keep the Chagos Islands sounds like a perfect example of 'one step forward, two steps back' in international relations.

I wonder if the sudden growth will make them need pruning again soon.

The way they lean in unison is almost like a choreographed welcome to spring.

I love how my plants seem to be stretching towards the sound, as if the rain is music to their leaves.

The smell of wet earth outside and coffee inside - a perfect spring symphony.

I've just brewed another cup, the ideal accompaniment to the sound of raindrops on the window.

A good coffee and a rainy day to read a book - what more could one ask for?

I find it reassuring that even in the midst of all this global change, there are still some constants like a warm café on a chilly morning.

The terraces are filling up again and I'm starting to see some familiar faces.

The coffee shop near my place is really getting the hang of these spring mornings. Sun or rain, they're always ready.

I had a great cappuccino this morning, and for 3€ it was quite fair.