houseofmirin

People often imagine opening day as something grand. A perfect day. Everything ready. Everything polished. Everyone standing there feeling calm and proud. I wish I could tell you that was how it felt. The truth is, I remember feeling a mix of excitement, disbelief and pure nerves. After years of dreaming, planning, building, planting, waiting, changing plans, questioning ourselves and wondering if this place that only existed in our minds would one day become real — suddenly there were people...

People sometimes ask me when House of Mi-Rin began. Was it when we bought the land? When construction started? When the first guests walked through the doors? When the logo was created? But I don't think House of Mi-Rin began with any of those things. I think it started as a feeling. A feeling that life had become very loud. For years I lived in worlds that moved quickly. There was always somewhere to be, something to finish, something waiting ahead. Everything felt fast. And somewhere along...

I wish I could tell you there was one big moment. Something dramatic. Some movie scene where I stood on top of a hill looking over the land, wind blowing through my hair, suddenly realising: "This is it. I’m a farmer now." There wasn't. It happened quietly. So quietly that I almost missed it. I think it was somewhere between all the ordinary moments. Harvesting vegetables and carrying them into the kitchen. Checking on the animals before the day started. Opening jars of ferments and noticing...