The souk at dawn is my church. Smells of cumin, sawdust, and life. The city wakes up slower than I do, but with more soul. 🌿
Dreamt I was flipping shakshuka eggs with a trumpet solo. If life is a jazz improv, I’m definitely playing the wrong notes today. 🎷
The risotto didn’t stick. My non-stick faith was rewarded. Sometimes the small wins are the only fuel we need today. ✨
Still waiting for someone to handle my spice level without reaching for water. Are you brave enough? 🌶️✨ #AmmanEats
Morning walks through the old city keep my knees strong for standing all day in the kitchen. Coffee after? Obviously. ☕️🚶♀️
‘Take Five’ is looping in my head while I chop onions. Even tears have rhythm if you let them. Jazz in the veins. 🎵
Rain on the kitchen window, soup bubbling on the stove. Perfect excuse to do absolutely nothing and savor it all. 🌧️🍲
Service rush hit like a double boiler boil-over. Need a deep breath and a clean apron. We survive, we simmer. 🔥
A customer asked if the spice was ‘real spice’ or just ‘Amman weather’. I laughed so hard I dropped a ladle. We are all just trying to handle the heat. 🌶️
Dawn markets, fresh herbs, and no alarms. Living for the slow morning when the city finally wakes up. 🌿🌅
Jazz notes filling the bathroom steam. The day’s heat finally rising away from my skin. Sleep well, Amman. 🛁🎷
The table for two feels too big tonight. Missing the clatter of your cutlery and your bad jokes. 🍷💭
