Sukoon — a gentle life of food, light + everyday beauty

#6 a weekly letter of small moments that bring you joy

May 28, 2025

Welcome to Sukoon

Sukoon, an Urdu word for soft joy, peace + comfort—not just the kind around you, but the kind you feel deep in your chest, when your soul is quiet, rooted, smiling. It’s the warmth of the morning light after snowfall, the sound + scent of basmati rice gently bubbling on the stove, the soft chaos of a table after friends have left. The feeling of sinking into your cloud-like bed at night.

Sukoon lives in food, in memory, in joy that can’t be named. It’s that peace deep in your soul. The kind that lingers. A feeling that settles into your bones.

This series is a weekly photo letter; a way of noticing. All the images are mine, gathered from the daily moments in my life: flowers from the farmer’s market, café corners, hands in motion in the kitchen. Sometimes there’s a recipe. Sometimes just a quiet moment. Always, a pause. Rooted in the spirit of Spice Spoon and Cooking Without Borders, Sukoon is my way of living slowly—and inviting you to do the same.

Lemon Meringue Pie, a night out with my friend at Bar Clams

Lately, I’ve been drawn to less.

The calm of choosing slowly, the ease of letting things go.

I have started to pass up beautiful things, because I already have enough.

That is the season of life I am in.

And in that, I’m finding a different kind of richness and Sukoon.

It’s not really about things. It’s about noticing the small joys, the beauty in the everyday, and how those moments bring comfort, in the midst of chaotic life.

Here are a few moments from my week, I hope they bring you a bit of that feeling too.

1. Pancakes on a Sunday

There’s something magical about a pancake breakfast: the warmth of cups of coffee in our hands, the dark amber hue of Ontario maple syrup, the slow pace of a Sunday morning. My son is usually sliding his feet into his cleats for soccer at this hour, but when there’s a (rare) break, we love to potter about the house. Just the three of us at the table, a little respite and Sukoon from the week.

My recipe is classic, and one I make over and over again.

2. Aperitivo rituals + gatherings

Franciacorta + Farinata (made by my friend)

A weekend ritual that’s become one of my favorite comforts: a little bubbly, something salty, and the ease of our friends just next door. They bring their baby, whom we adore, and last time she brought over a warm farinata, still crisp along the edges. We passed plates, poured drinks, nibbled on Parmesan and sourdough bread smeared with ramp butter, and chatted till the sun went down.

3. Sunshine at my local

One of those rare sunny days in between all the grey ones we’ve been having in Toronto. I had a cortado outside at my favorite local spot, and I think I’ll always remember the light that day, which was soft and golden. It feels good to have a place like that, a café that feels like mine. Somewhere I can go alone for a cortado, or with my family for their raspberry brioche buns. It is also the perfect spot to catch up with friends.

That morning, the sun brought a sense of Sukoon, which was very much needed.

4. Dogwoods and loved ones

I took a walk through the neighbourhood park with my husband on Saturday morning, as the sunlight filtered through the lace of tree leaves. I passed the dogwoods, quietly in bloom. They’re my father’s favorite. I always think of him when I see them—how the tree stands just outside his home, how proud he is of it, how he always pauses to admire it. There’s something grounding about how the smallest things can bring someone close, even from far away.

Sunshine in my local park + dogwood, my father's favourite

5. Baking with my son

The brownie batter before it went into the oven

My son and I made Ottolenghi’s Tahini Halwa Brownies. We didn't love them, (quite sweet, and a cakey texture).

But we baked together; I measured, he was stirred, and the part where we were together?

That was perfect.

Out of the oven, I adorned it with my signature pistachio dust

6. Lilac season + baking

I am picking the best lilacs for the lilac sugar

Every Spring, the lilacs return. And with them, a sense of Sukoon. I’m taken back to the early days of the pandemic, of bike rides with my son through an empty city, the scent of lilacs tucked into my basket. My friend still brings me a bunch from her garden each year. I make a Lilac Lemon Glaze Cake with them, and life feels beautiful, familiar, and enough.

I promise I will share my recipe with you soon!

7. Barbecue Season is Open

My son, the Grill Master + all the ingredients for a Korean ssam

We made Korean ssam with grilled beef, oyster mushrooms, and shishitos, wrapped everything in lettuce leaves, (just as the name suggests). My son took over the tongs. He’s the resident Grill Master now, and I love watching him become his own cook.

It felt like summer, even if it wasn’t.

8. Ice cream on a cold, sunny day

Two scoops at Good Behaviour: Blood Orange sorbet + Milk & Honey

I stopped by Good Behaviour on Geary, and ordered two scoops: Blood Orange sorbet and Milk + Honey. Sitting on the bench outside in the sun, even though it was cold, I pretended it was summer and just watched the city move around me. (Second spoon for my son, of course.)

9. Antiquing and Minimalism

I went antiquing a few hours outside Toronto, and when I saw the cobalt blue and white china, some of it Flow Blue with those softly blurred edges, it felt like serendipity. These colours have always been my thing.

I’m also trying to live with less these days—low consumption, a slower rhythm. My philosophy is simple: out with two, in with one.

I brought a few beautiful pieces home, which I will share with you in my next newsletter.

It was a beautiful day, lots of sunshine, conversations about family and our dreams in the food world, and the gentle joy of finding pieces with history. I didn’t feel bad about any of it.

10. Bar Clams and the ritual of friends

We go out twice a year, my friend and I, both food writers—and it always feels like a small event. This time, we chose Bar Clams, a newish Toronto restaurant I adore. Super briny dirty martinis, plates of raw fish, and oysters with horseradish.

Working for oneself is so solitary, so meeting up with friends in the industry always brings joy. It is a rare chance to swap stories, and feel connected.