Hello, I’m Miriam

I live on the third floor, in a flat with a kitchen you can touch both walls of. For years I thought a proper Friday night needed a proper dining room. Then I set a round table for four beside the fridge, covered one loaf, lit two candles and put my phone in a drawer, and it was enough.

The letters are what I wish someone had sent me in my first year: what to cook ahead, how to braid dough without panic, what to say when the light goes. I never tell anyone what to believe. I only write down what has worked on my own table.