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Coffee is the smell of childhood. And, in a way, envy. Parents brewing coffee on weekend mornings (and on weekdays too, but everyone had breakfast at different times). And a burning desire to try it, despite being told that it was too early for kids, bad for the heart, and so on.
For Vera, her Jewish identity was built primarily around food (editor’s note: we weren’t surprised at all!). The family’s traditional table included Hamantaschen made from soft, rich dough, which turned out to be quite unusual after moving to Israel, where they are almost always made with shortcrust pastry.
This is a story about Sonya’s close friend, a director of photography. One evening, long before all the wars and disasters, they were sitting in the kitchen, arguing the way only a director and a cinematographer can. The fridge had a strange assortment of ingredients, including an overripe mango, so Sonya improvised and made a mango sauce out of it.
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