March always feels like a turning point. The light lingers a little longer each evening, kitchens begin to brighten with citrus and spice again, and plans for the months ahead start to take shape.
It’s also a month of quiet celebrations. Across different cultures and traditions, the arrival of the new season brings baking, gathering, and food that marks new beginnings. In this month’s letter I’ve been thinking about those small rituals — from delicate ma’amoul biscuits made for Eid, to the familiar comfort of hot cross buns warming in the oven.
There’s also a look into the Japanese pantry and the tiny ingredients that transform everyday cooking, a wander to Fuengirola for a dose of early sunshine, and a hopeful Irish novel that feels made for the first softer evenings of the year.
Spring, in other words, is beginning to stretch its legs.
With Eid approaching later this month, I’ve been revisiting ma’amoul — delicate semolina biscuits filled with dates, pistachios or walnuts that appear across the Middle East during celebrations. Soft, lightly spiced and often shaped in beautiful wooden moulds, they’re the sort of bake that carries both tradition and quiet craftsmanship.
I love how these small biscuits mark moments of gathering and generosity. A plate of ma’amoul rarely lasts long once tea is poured and people start reaching for just one more.
I’ve written up the ma’amoul recipe on Culinary Travels if you’d like to try them at home.
From Middle Eastern festival baking to another well-loved spring tradition, hot cross buns are beginning to appear in bakeries and kitchens again. The smell of warm spices, citrus peel and fresh dough drifting from the oven is one of those small seasonal signals that Easter is on its way.
Soft, lightly sweet and best eaten still warm with a generous spread of butter, they’re the sort of bake that turns an ordinary afternoon into something a little more celebratory.
You can find my hot cross buns recipe on Culinary Travels, along with a Cornish-inspired Easter treat.
While I’ve been thinking about seasonal baking this month, I’ve also been exploring the quieter magic of the Japanese pantry. Sometimes the smallest ingredients are the ones that transform everyday cooking, and furikake is a perfect example.
This savoury seasoning — usually a mix of sesame seeds, seaweed, salt and sometimes dried fish — is traditionally sprinkled over rice, but it has a way of improving almost anything it touches. A simple bowl of rice suddenly becomes something much more interesting with just a pinch.
I recently wrote about the Japanese pantry and the ingredients that quietly elevate everyday cooking over on the Wasabi Company website if you’re curious to explore further. They’ve also kindly offered Culinary Travels readers 10% off their first order with the code WELCOMECTRAVELS if you’d like to experiment with a few Japanese pantry staples at home.
After a long stretch of winter, the thought of sea air and a little Spanish sunshine starts to feel particularly appealing. Fuengirola, on the Costa del Sol, is one of those places that works beautifully for an early spring break — relaxed, family-friendly and blessed with wide sandy beaches that stretch along the Mediterranean.
It’s the sort of destination where mornings begin with coffee by the harbour, afternoons drift between the beach and long seaside walks, and evenings end with tapas as the sun slips behind the mountains.
I’ve written a guide to Fuengirola on Culinary Travels if you’re looking for a gentle dose of Andalusian sunshine this spring.
This month’s book recommendation is The Bridge to Always by Irish author Lynda Marron, a warm and quietly emotional story set in a small West Cork town.
When Maeve Gaffney moves from Dublin after her mother’s death, she arrives with more than grief in tow — she’s also carrying a long-held secret involving the man she once loved and the daughter he doesn’t yet know he has. Around her gathers a cast of characters that feel wonderfully real: a lonely landowner hoping for friendship, a kind but guarded farmer, and young Emer finding her own voice amid the swirl of adult lives around her.
Marron has a lovely ability to take what could have been a simple love story and give it real warmth and texture. The small-town drama is quietly compelling, the characters are vivid (if not always entirely likeable), and I found myself laughing, wincing and occasionally wiping away a tear.
It’s the sort of hopeful, deeply human novel that suits the first softer evenings of spring.
You can read more about the book on Instagram if you’re curious.
Over the next few weeks I’ll be turning my attention back to some Culinary Travels favourites, including a refreshed roast chicken dinner, a proper steak pie, and a long-overdue update to my Scotland road trip guide.
Until then, I hope this month brings a little sunshine, something delicious from the oven, and perhaps a good book for a quiet evening.
Georgina
Culinary Travels
If you enjoyed this month’s letter, you’re very welcome to join the next one here.
