What do you get when you mix one wedding, one field workshop, and one farm brunch—all crammed into three days?
A crash course in culinary chaos of course; seasoned generously with joy (and the occasional broken wine glass).
This past weekend was a whirlwind: a blizzard of sourdough pizzas, countless seasonal vegetables, muddy shoes, and enough moments of magic to make me forget how much my feet hurt… well, almost at least.
Here’s how it all unfolded: a peek behind the catering curtain, and a very happy reflection from a very happy entrepreneur.
Friday: The Wedding That Smelled Like Pizza
The weekend started like a Mediterranean dream sequence: Marco kneading pizza dough with the poise of an Italian nonna while I composed toppings like a culinary orchestra conductor. Not your average marinated artichokes and marinara sauce, but awe-inspiring new creations like:
Beetroot pizza with labneh, dukkah, and smoked carrot (because smoked salmon is so 2007)
Miso and pumpkin pizza with roasted corn salsa and a vegan camembert foam
A greener-than-green zucchini pesto sauce with grilled peach and homemade mozzarella
These weren’t just pizza toppings—they were auditioning for a Vogue cover.
And then there was the crudité platter. A centerpiece so dramatic I’m secretly hoping it gets me invited to Meghan Markle’s garden party. Radishes, heirloom carrots, purple cauliflower and little edible flowers tucked in just so—because why not lean into the drama when love is in the air?
But the pièce de résistance was the dessert. The groom had one request: Dame Blanche, his all-time favourite. But there was one problem: outdoor weddings and melting ice cream are not friends.
So I came up with a creative solution: reinvent the classic!
Sixty little domes of silky vanilla mousse perched on sweet potato brownies, dressed with chocolate soil and a whisper of sea salt. A dessert that looked like fine dining but felt like nostalgia.
By the time the evening buzzed to a close, everyone full of pizza and unmeltable Dame Blanche, I’d lost all sensation in my toes—but my heart was full.
Saturday: Cooking Where the Vegetables Grow
The next morning, I traded pizza ovens for open fields at CSA ’t Schaaphof. The vibe? Pure zen. Just us, the vegetables, and the occasional curious pony who seemed ready to join the workshop.
We harvested aubergines, courgettes, tomatoes, green beans and so much more —vegetables so fresh they practically introduced themselves—and turned them into dishes that celebrated the season:
A fragrant aubergine madras curry, with aubergine so tender it melted like butter
A lasagne soup (yes, baby!) with three different types of beans
A courgette-peach cake that tasted like a love letter to late summer
A grilled cucumber and tzatziki orzo salad
A bedazzling beetroot carpaccio with chermoula
A black rice, corn and blackberry salad
A pearl couscous salad with roasted black lime tomatoes
A pistacchio, chocolate and raspberry pie with smoky aubergine
I mean… you should have been there; it was truly magical!
Cooking on the field strips away the noise. It’s just the hum of bees, the warmth of the sun, and conversations that flow as easily as olive oil. No ticking clocks, no plating perfection—just food, community, and the gentle reminder that simplicity is often the greatest luxury.
Sunday: Brunch at CSA Groentegem
Sunday morning arrived too soon, but brunch waits for no one—especially not 55 hungry guests. The buffet was a painter’s palette:
Beetroot pancakes layered with beetroot labneh and jewel-bright raspberry-beetroot coulis (do I have a beetroot obsession?)
Something I like to call pimped Vegamuze cornflakes: a marvelous combo of dukkah and cornflakes because yes, you can have it all
Indian dahl topped with patisson Bombay-style
Mexican tacos with chili and huitlacoche mole, aubergine barbacoa, and corn salsa
Smoked carrot and homemade cream cheese on sourdough
Toast with tomato chutney, homemade vegan “goat cheese,” and vegan camembert
A refreshing roasted potato, green bean, and fennel salad with citrus-mustard vinaigrette
A zingy orzo pasta with cucumber, watermelon, and a tzatziki–baba ghanoush fusion dip dreams are made of
Smoked aubergine and chipotle chocolate mousse with hazelnut brittle
And last but not least, a lavender-scented courgette and peach almond cake with lavender ‘clotted cream’
Was there a flicker of chaos? Sure.
I turned into a human helicopter wafting off wasps from the chocolate mousse.
People asked, “What’s a patisson?” (Answer: a pumpkin’s cuter cousin.)
And yes, there was the occasional hint of panic—like when a toddler ate the very spicy mole and started crying.
But the gratitude outweighed the stress: laughter at long tables, people savouring food grown on the very field they were sitting in. This is why I do it.
By Sunday evening, I didn’t celebrate with champagne (okay, maybe I had a glass of wine) —I celebrated with the deepest, most triumphant nap of my life. Because here’s the truth: exhaustion, when seasoned with joy, tastes like victory.
If you’ve ever run yourself ragged for something you love, you’ll know that feeling: bone-tired but soul-fed. That was my weekend in a nutshell—or rather, in a patisson shell.
(And if you want a taste of this magic yourself, keep an eye out for my seasonal workshops. Spoiler: there will be vegetables, there will be stories, and there might even be beetroot.)