When I think of feeding conversation, I think of a piece of string. An invisible one, that runs through people and joins them up. I’m reminded of feeding a rope on a ship, providing some slack. I believe it’s a generous act. To ease along a connection, bring one end to another.

Imagine the world and all the people in it as connected by golden threads so thin and sparkling that they’re invisible to the human eye. When you get a text from a friend who just popped into your head, that’s the golden thread. When you meet someone at a party who’s a distant cousin of a childhood friend, there’s the golden thread again. The threads work in ways that are so in sync with something beyond us that I can’t give you another example; they are too magical, too specific.

Getting tangled up in these threads is a glorious mess. You’d think living in a village, it might be easier to find yourself in this kind of tangle. Although I’m sure that big places too, like London, maybe, or New Delhi, or Paris, might feel like a golden thread mega-webs. On the underground, you’re likely only two people away from someone who’s connected to you in the golden thread way. These tangles crisscross like safety nets, and we can bounce off them or lie in them, depending on the spirit of a day.

For the last 7 years I’ve been writing letters to my brother on the Internet about cake I bake. It appears one-sided, but in real life, you can rest assured he sends me top-tier comic reels on Instagram, pictures of his cat, and updates on his flat renovations, regularly. Sometimes I think we know exactly what the other one isn’t saying, other times we completely miss the mark. The former is cool if it’s true, and still cool to have the thought. That’s the golden thread that connects me and my brother, which I know crosses with many others. I like to think that I’ve been feeding our conversation, slowly reinforcing our rope, and building our tangle of golden threads for others to join too.

With that all said, here is a recipe for my favourite cake to eat, topped with that special winter fruit, the quince. Maybe you’ll bake a cake too, and feed it to the ones in your brilliant tangle of golden threads, here’s the recipe for my Yoghurt and Olive Oil Quince Cake featuring Odysea Organic Real Greek Yoghurt