Kinderzimmer Special

ABC TEST ased artist Laila Gohar uses food as a means of telling stories. Together with HAY, she has designed a collection of tableware and kitchen accessories that celebrates the joy of hosting – fromsourcing ingredients, to cooking, setting the table, and finally sitting down and enjoying the people around the table. The collection is called ‘Sobremesa’, which is the Spanish tradition of “relaxing and enjoying idlemoments and each other’s company at the end of the meal.”

Laila Gohar is a conceptual artist and chef who works with food as her artistic medium. Gohar was born in Egypt, where she grew up in a large family of passionate cooks and hosts. She is now based in New York City, where she works internationally, and is known for her high-profile collaborations across art, design and fashion.

Test 123 I have always existed between two worlds. I am not a chef in the traditional sense, although I can cook. I am also not an artist who makes commercial work. My world lives somewhere in between both. I design immersive installations that blur the line between art and dining. For as long as I remember, I have been obsessed with creating moments of magic around the dining table. 

I grew up in Cairo where the majority of the population is Muslim, but there is also a sizeable Christian community. My neighbourhood, and school specifically, were very mixed. There were Egyptian Christians and Muslims, as well as lots of foreigners from all over the place. I remember one year when I was about 10 years old, Ramadan, Hanukkah and Christmas coincided on the same weekend. My mother had, unusually, put up a tree in our house that year. My grandma had given me a traditional Ramadan stained-glass lantern that I had placed under the tree. One afternoon I found myself sitting under the tree, spinning a small dreidel that a kid from school had given me. None of it made much sense.

Essen ist der beste Grund, mit anderen Menschen zusammenzukommen.

— Laila Gohar

Perhaps this is part of the reason I find it more fitting (and exciting) to throw celebrations based on imaginary holidays. I prefer to borrow bits from here and there, add imagination, and create new excuses to throw great parties. The holidays can be anything you please. Finding delicious tomatoes at their peak in the market on a sweltering August day is a good enough reason to celebrate. So is the first sight of favas in the spring. I once saw a dahlia the size of my head at a flower shop down the road from my house and thought that dahlia badly needed to be fêted. 

As it is February and freezing cold, not much is growing where I live in New York City, but that doesn’t get in my way. A very cold night is a great excuse to throw a cosy party. Let that be your starting point when throwing a Coldest Night of the Year celebration. On a freezing night I find myself craving soup. I also think not enough people serve soup at parties. Or make the whole meal centred around soup. Chicken soup is the mother of all soups.

I like to buy chicken from my friend Walter of Shannon Brook Farm at Union Square Greenmarket in New York. Talk to your butcher and have them recommend a good chicken for soup. When you’re serving just one food, it’s especially important to source the best-quality ingredients you can find. A good bird will make a delicious soup. A not-so-good bird will make a not-so-good soup. This may sound obvious, but seems often to be overlooked.

I have always existed between two worlds. I am not a chef in the traditional sense, although I can cook. I am also not an artist who makes commercial work. My world lives somewhere in between both. I design immersive installations that blur the line between art and dining. For as long as I remember, I have been obsessed with creating moments of magic around the dining table. 

As it is February and freezing cold, not much is growing where I live in New York City, but that doesn’t get in my way. A very cold night is a great excuse to throw a cosy party. Let that be your starting point when throwing a Coldest Night of the Year celebration. On a freezing night I find myself craving soup. I also think not enough people serve soup at parties. Or make the whole meal centred around soup. Chicken soup is the mother of all soups.

I like to buy chicken from my friend Walter of Shannon Brook Farm at Union Square Greenmarket in New York. Talk to your butcher and have them recommend a good chicken for soup. When you’re serving just one food, it’s especially important to source the best-quality ingredients you can find. A good bird will make a delicious soup. A not-so-good bird will make a not-so-good soup. This may sound obvious, but seems often to be overlooked.

I have always existed between two worlds. I am not a chef in the traditional sense, although I can cook. I am also not an artist who makes commercial work. My world lives somewhere in between both. I design immersive installations that blur the line between art and dining. For as long as I remember, I have been obsessed with creating moments of magic around the dining table. 

As it is February and freezing cold, not much is growing where I live in New York City, but that doesn’t get in my way. A very cold night is a great excuse to throw a cosy party. Let that be your starting point when throwing a Coldest Night of the Year celebration. On a freezing night I find myself craving soup. I also think not enough people serve soup at parties. Or make the whole meal centred around soup. Chicken soup is the mother of all soups.

I like to buy chicken from my friend Walter of Shannon Brook Farm at Union Square Greenmarket in New York. Talk to your butcher and have them recommend a good chicken for soup. When you’re serving just one food, it’s especially important to source the best-quality ingredients you can find. A good bird will make a delicious soup. A not-so-good bird will make a not-so-good soup. This may sound obvious, but seems often to be overlooked.

I have always existed between two worlds. I am not a chef in the traditional sense, although I can cook. I am also not an artist who makes commercial work. My world lives somewhere in between both. I design immersive installations that blur the line between art and dining. For as long as I remember, I have been obsessed with creating moments of magic around the dining table. 

I have always existed between two worlds. I am not a chef in the traditional sense, although I can cook. I am also not an artist who makes commercial work. My world lives somewhere in between both. I design immersive installations that blur the line between art and dining. For as long as I remember, I have been obsessed with creating moments of magic around the dining table. 

Perhaps this is part of the reason I find it more fitting (and exciting) to throw celebrations based on imaginary holidays. I prefer to borrow bits from here and there, add imagination, and create new excuses to throw great parties. The holidays can be anything you please. Finding delicious tomatoes at their peak in the market on a sweltering August day is a good enough reason to celebrate. So is the first sight of favas in the spring. I once saw a dahlia the size of my head at a flower shop down the road from my house and thought that dahlia badly needed to be fêted. 

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