My mother used to collect fennel seeds from the paths surrounding the small house and leave them to dry on a piece of newspaper. Those little seeds in the sun were the beginning of a cycle that started with small routines: the prepared white cloths coming out of the box, the clean jars, the long and thick needles, the parts of the manual machinery being checked again, the threads and the ropes. A whole dance of objects that, when the time came, would come to life until the cycle closed once again. It has been a few years since this cycle was broken and I have a small grief anchored within me. A small, constant, and annoying prick that seeks that awakening of inanimate things. A system collapsed like a house of cards made of newspaper.

Paella is the favorite dish of 57% of the inhabitants of the Balearic Islands, according to the La Fallera Study: Paella, the dish that unites all Spaniards, prepared based on a survey of 1,000 people between 18 and 65 years old. This percentage places the Islands as the second autonomous community where this dish is chosen the most, only behind the Valencian Community, where it reaches 74%.

Pere Garau square will host the second edition of the Variat Fair on the upcoming 26th and 27th of September, an event that grows this year and incorporates changes to avoid the logistical problems of the first edition. The main novelty will be the possibility of buying tickets in advance through the fair's website, a system that will allow acquiring the consumptions before or during the event and exchanging them at any of the participating stalls.

Summer stretches out like a heavy shadow. There is no conversation that does not begin with the heaviness of these months, the difficulty of enduring the high temperature, and how the humidity has clung to the skin like a heavy fabric. They say that next year they will be even higher and we breathe deeply while we think about how we will be able to endure it. But we will adapt to it, for survival, as we have adapted to what the land gave us, to the changes in the landscape, to the loss.

Xisca Alzamora is the owner and cook of Nou Convent Cafeteria. “I put a lot of love into it,” she says when we ask her how she manages to prepare and give that good flavor to the daily dishes of Mallorcan cuisine or the varied tapas of the place, right in front of Manacor Town Hall, which reopens after a well-deserved vacation. Everyone who knows her knows that she doesn't like to boast about her knowledge in the world of Mallorcan cuisine, but people who have tasted any of her daily dishes or tapas know that she has something that makes her so special when entering a kitchen.

Traditional pastry making constitutes one of the richest gastronomic heritages of the Balearic Islands. Cultural exchange, the utilization of available resources, and the transmission of culinary knowledge from generation to generation have given rise to an extraordinarily wide repertoire of cakes, pastries, pies, cookies, and sweets that have accompanied religious celebrations, family parties, and the agricultural calendar. This diversity not only responds to the creativity of bakers and pastry chefs, but also to the fundamental role that domestic kitchens, convents, and prosperous homes have played in the conservation and transmission of this heritage.

Cod has been for centuries one of the great protagonists of our cuisine. Its long preservation made it an essential food when fresh fish was scarce or inaccessible, but also an ingredient capable of adapting to the rhythm of the seasons. While in winter it was accompanied by seasonal vegetables such as green leaves, with the arrival of summer it found its best allies in garden fruits: tomatoes, peppers, and in some cases, eggplants.

The folding chairs and rocking chairs swirled in groups from one end of the street to the other. My grandmothers, Aunt Magdalena and Mrs. Juanaina, sat in our midst. Further on were Mrs. Panerera and Mrs. Verda, and on the other side were Ms. Xisca from Can Feliu, Ms. Bet, and Ms. Tonina from Can Sastre. They began to enjoy the cool evening air before dinner, when the heat subsided and it felt better to be outside than inside the houses. When it was time to sit down to eat, the chairs were outside, alone, as if a cataclysm had made disappear the people who had occupied them until then. As the street filled with darkness, the neighbors reclaimed the street and the murmur of conversations and laughter resumed. We children went back and forth from one side to the other, from group to group; at times we played, at others we sat and listened to stories to pass the time. Sometimes someone brought out ice cream made with an almond preparation. We enjoyed the cool air. The street was ours.

Lobster fishing is one of the most traditional and valuable artisanal fishing activities in the Balearic Islands. This crustacean lives on rocky bottoms and is mainly caught with traps, a selective fishing gear that allows young specimens and egg-bearing females to be preserved. Its exploitation is subject to very strict regulations, with closed seasons, limitations on the number of traps, and a minimum catch size, measures that have contributed to maintaining some of the best-preserved populations in the Mediterranean. Although catches are limited, its high commercial value makes it one of the most profitable fisheries for the Balearic artisanal fleet. Beyond its economic interest, lobster holds a prominent place in the gastronomic heritage of the Islands, especially in Menorca.

One of the most emblematic bars of traditional Mallorcan cuisine says goodbye. Ca'n Biel Felip has announced the definitive closure of the restaurant, in a publication on social networks, after more than thirty years of trajectory, a decision that the establishment itself admits "is never easy". The venue, recognized this year with the award for the best classic bar in the Balearic Islands, is now negotiating a possible succession so that the business can continue with a new stage. According to reports, the main reason for the closure is the lack of generational succession.

Born in Montuïri in 1944, Antònia Verger Jaume Sopeta is one of those anonymous but key figures in the local history of Pla de Mallorca and, in this case, Montuïri. Antònia Verger was for many years the lady of the Puig or of Cas Carboner, later. Without realizing it, she was a leader, a reference for other women who in the last quarter of the last century too often did not escape household chores. Verger began like this, not in vain when she is asked about her studies, she explains that she managed to take exams at the Institute of Felanitx, but, "the boys continued their studies and the girls, as was usual at that time, ended up doing household chores or as seamstresses". It was at the beginning of the seventies – and not without difficulties, as you will see in the interview – that she embarked, together with her husband, Biel Bennàssar Mayol Carboner, on the adventure of managing the bar and restaurant of Puig de Sant Miquel. In this conversation, Verger reviews from the beginning the success of her cuisine to the tensions and the social transformation that, without knowing it, it represented for the women of the town.

They had installed the perch in the kitchen. The feathered ducks swayed there, hanging from a hook. A macabre curtain from which the animals had just dripped the last drops of blood. The scorched skin gave off a metallic and penetrating smell that mixed with the scalded feathers. Those powerful animals that organized the coop with their scandalous comings and goings looked like others, stripped and sad, staring at you from that small head with cloudy eyes.

The combination of meat, sugar, and fruit was for centuries one of the most distinctive characteristics of medieval cuisine. Far from understanding sweet and savory as two separate worlds, cooks sought harmony between different flavors. Andalusian cuisine had developed a wide repertoire of dishes where meat was combined with fruits, nuts, and aromatic spices, an influence that left a deep mark on the territories of the Crown of Aragon. At the same time, the great Catalan medieval recipe books, such as the Llibre de Sent Soví (14th century) and the Llibre del Coch, by Robert de Nola (1520), collect numerous preparations in which the use of sugar and fruit is common, especially in dishes of game, poultry, and veal.

The dining hall of CEIP Pare Bartomeu Pou in Algaida is, since last June and forevermore, Can Moncho. It is in recognition of José Ramon Gómez Lorenzo (Pedrayo, 1962) who from 1988 until this year has been the cook at the public school in the municipality. At times and amidst nostalgic memories, he explains very valid and practical tricks and recipes for any family trying to get the little ones at home to eat everything. Moncho didn't want any farewell party, but after almost 40 years of service, the event was completely inevitable.

As a child, she was creative, bright, and very independent. She is the third of four siblings who were born and raised in Palma, behind the Born: “She had a very rich inner world. She spent many hours playing in the courtyard that is now Casal Solleric, imagining stories and building her own universes”. She is slightly scattered, but with a lot of “visionary capacity”. In fact, 25 years ago she decided to make a change in the family restaurant, create her own vegetable garden there and bet on local, zero-kilometer produce: “It seemed like an extravagance at the time, but when she had an idea in her head, she would go ahead with it without paying much attention to what others said”. This is how she launched Ca na Toneta, the iconic family restaurant in Caimari. Maria Solivellas (1970) is the chef who revolutionized it, but before putting on an apron, she did many other things, driven by an infinite curiosity. This is told to us by the actress Catalina Solivellas, her second sister – the eldest is Teresa, and the youngest, Pep.

We had coffee facing each other, sitting at the kitchen table. It was the little pleasure after lunch with my grandmother. She prepared the coffee maker and I took out the cups and the anise. Inside the display cabinet where she kept it, the smells of liqueurs and the wood of the furniture mingled. Some bottles had never been opened, the yellowish seal unbroken betrayed them, others were wrapped in cellophane; presents from France that were savored on special occasions. She poured me that transparent liquid like one perfumes coffee with a pinch of cinnamon. This was our ritual: coffee, conversation, and a teaspoon of sweet anise while she watched me with a mischievous girl's smile.

Then the street was flanked by plots of land. The almond trees leaned over our path, offering such green almonds that we could still eat the skin. We opened them with our teeth and took out the kernel that burst in our mouths like a small gulp of acidic water. We filled our pockets with them and ran off in fours for fear that some neighbor might give us away. In the month of September, when it was time to harvest the almonds, I always ate some of those we shelled outside the cloths. The pulp broke crunchily in the mouth, milky and sweet, braving such a wonderful transformation, just like a chrysalis waiting for its final state.

There are cuisines that not only nourish, but also explain who we are: those that are passed down in silence, from generation to generation, and that live in memory before recipe books. From this invisible thread starts A kitchen in every home, the book by Pau Gómez Calvo, which combines memories, recipes, and reflection to reclaim a domestic legacy that, according to the author, is undergoing a complete transformation.

The sofrit pagès suffers like never before. Yes: it's a very bad pun. The situation of Pitiüsan gastronomy is also not good. Sofrit and other Ibizan specialities are drowning amidst an avalanche of pizzas, tacos, sushi, chicken tikka masala and spring rolls. Not to mention the competition from Michelin-starred restaurants, establishments by famous chefs and fast food franchises. It's an unequal fight. A quick search on Google Maps reveals the difference in forces: in the capital of the main Pitiüsa island alone, the search engine offers 23 Japanese restaurants, 16 Chinese restaurants, 24 restaurants classified as Italian cuisine, 21 pizza-only places, and 23 Mediterranean cuisine. There isn't a specific tab for local cuisine, but we must assume it's included in the 'Mediterranean cuisine' category. Without even going online, any Ibizan knows they will have plenty of options if they want to eat sushi or pizza, and practically none if they fancy a sofrit pagès, the main meat dish of traditional Ibizan cuisine.But the sofrit is no longer alone. Last week, the Academy of Balearic Islands Cuisine was presented to the public in an event at the Consell d’Eivissa; this organization, for the first time, has four members from the Pitiüsa Islands, three from Ibiza and one from Formentera. A kind of Pitiüsan resistance against culinary globalization. There was talk of "defending our own" and the "danger of extinction" of local cuisine. It is still relatively easy to find the famous fish stew (bullit de peix) on the menus of Pitiüsan beach restaurants – another matter is whether the fish used is truly Pitiüsan – alongside international cuisine dishes. It is much more difficult to find less popular preparations, such as sofrit and borrida de ratjada. The same applies to desserts; beyond flaó on some menus and perhaps greixonera, it will be almost impossible for you to find any other.

The summer solstice, the moment of the year when the day is longest and the night is shortest, has been celebrated for thousands of years by many of the cultures that have populated the earth. These were pagan festivals where ritual celebrations were held and where the triumph of light over darkness was celebrated. This is the case of the festivities of Classical Greece dedicated to the god Apollo, god of the Sun, during which purifying bonfires were lit. When Christianity spread, the Church adapted many of these existing festivities. This is the case of Saint John, the day on which the birth of the saint is celebrated. According to tradition, Saint John was born at 12 AM, at the same time as Jesus was born and exactly six months before him.