Hi, I'm Tatyana. I relocated to North Carolina after growing up in Detroit and spending fifteen years in Washington DC and Brooklyn. I am a working mom and more than ever find myself in an unending predicament familiar to many: how to balance parenthood, independence, and create community in a post-pandemic world- all on a budget of money and time.

I have tried tapping into various resources to help me navigate this problem. My search has, unfortunately, brought me to a sour conclusion. Many of the resources available to me - blogs, influencers on social media, etc. - preach that being a good mother, leading an engaged and healthy lifestyle are primarily measured by “slow” or “intentional” living. What do these terms even mean?? So much of the advice for working moms feels empty and entitled - there is more focus on attaining a measure of (what I think is false) authenticity than actual connection.

All this to say, the pandemic threw me (as it did many of us) to returning to my priorities. When things around us actually slowed down, but everything felt in limbo, I realized I needed to reconnect to myself and to my roots.

My family came to the United States as refugees from the former Soviet Union. Born in Azerbaijan to a Jewish family of Ukrainian decent, I was raised on bold flavors and traditions of the Middle East fused with Soviet culture. Like many immigrants, the rich tradition of communal dining was the tentpole of our home. Everything happened in the kitchen, around the family table. My first memories are of cramming dozens of people into our small apartment for food, drink, music. The warmth of opening the door to any guest, sharing the best of what we have, and more than anything else - robust (even heated) discussion were weekly events. The last few years put in sharp focus that community isn’t commenting on social media or drive through interactions. It’s time in the kitchen, sharing a dish and a story, commiserating or disagreeing with someone new, then pouring another glass of wine… all the things that I was raised on but let fall away, in the shuffle of daily life.

So, why the word “sobremesa”? It’s not Russian, Hebrew, Ukrainian, Soviet, Azeri. For years, I’ve been trying to explain to friends the feeling captured by my family’s dinners. After all the food had been consumed and dessert plates wiped clean, my mom or aunts without fail find another bowl of fruit or sunflower seeds, tea and cognac are replenished… and guests linger, unable to tear away from the moment after the meal. When I traveled to Spain a few years ago, I was introduced to the term sobremesa. It has no direct English translation and refers to the cultural practice of staying at the table after a meal, engaging in conversation and enjoying each other's company. This word perfectly described the cherished tradition of my family (and so many immigrant families). It instantly reconnected me to my own culture and traditions. I am using this word intentionally. Despite being a world apart, feeling so disconnected, many cultures share the same fabric. My family came to this country because it was a melting pot of traditions, ideas, and opportunity. I want to bring my heritage to my new community but also infuse my table with the cultures of those who come to dine and share their stories.

Join me for a meal, a story, a sobremesa.