The sin­gle most com­mon ex­cuse I hear from peo­ple is “I don’t have enough time to work out.” Let’s do this to­geth­er, very sim­ple math, sev­en days in a week, twen­ty-four hours in a day, which means there are 168 hours in a week. So, let’s just say for de­bate sake you work sev­en days a week eight hours shift, that’s 56 hours, you sleep eight hours, that’s an­oth­er 56 hours, so we are 112 hours. You com­mute back and forth to work for let’s say two hours, now we are up to 114h hours. Ok so now you are go­ing to give me the sec­ond de­gree dance about gro­cery shop­ping, run­ning er­rands and fam­i­ly time. Ok! Let’s back up a bit and take three hours per week to do your gro­cery, we are now at one hun­dred and sev­en­teen 117 hours. Clear­ly fam­i­ly time is para­mount so you can take 40 hours out of your busy week to bond with the fam­i­ly, this brings us to 157 hours. Now you are left with eleven hours for er­rands but still the ex­cuse hov­ers over your head and you have no time to take care of your health. In­stead, you are go­ing to spend the mon­ey you have been work­ing so hard for at the doc­tor’s of­fice be­cause you don’t feel too good.

The tim­ing couldn’t be more ap­pro­pri­ate. The ac­tion, per­fect­ly synced. It’s al­most as though the Uni­verse called on Caribbean singers like Isas­ha, Tur­bu­lence, Caple­ton and oth­ers of the reg­gae mu­sic move­ment, to speak up.

It may have been a fa­mous say­ing of Hip­pocrates, but it is al­so the mot­to by which Dr Joel Teelucks­ingh lives.

The world was spun up­side down and just as con­struc­tion work­ers were in the process of lay­ing down the foun­da­tion of the High­landers Steel Or­ches­tra’s new pan the­atre, when Covid-19 struck a hate­ful chord, tun­ing out a clo­sure of what was con­sid­ered non-es­sen­tial busi­ness in­clud­ing con­struc­tion.

Par­faits orig­i­nat­ed in France and it trans­lates to “per­fect”. That on­ly seems fit­ting, since that’s ex­act­ly what this dessert is: per­fec­tion in a glass. These lay­ers of plump, soft berries, whipped cream and crunchy streusel are easy to as­sem­ble and sat­is­fy all your sweet crav­ings.

San Fer­nan­do May­or and CEO of Caribbean Air­lines Skif­fle Steel Or­ches­tra Ju­nia Re­grel­lo ini­ti­at­ed a hu­man­i­tar­i­an ef­fort to as­sist mem­bers of South­ern Marines Steel Or­ches­tra with food ham­pers. This has come about in the band’s time of need since the cri­sis of the world­wide pan­dem­ic COVID-19 has left many fam­i­lies with­out.

In this harsh eco­nom­ic time, mem­bers of the Unit­ed Na­tion­al Con­gress (UNC) To­co/ San­gre Grande ex­ec­u­tive de­cid­ed to ho­n­our moth­ers. One of the re­cip­i­ents was cen­te­nar­i­an Math­ar Far­ria of Church Street, Matu­ra.

Bake and Shark, or Shark and Bake — what­ev­er you call it — is ar­guably Trinidad and To­ba­go’s most fa­mous food. It’s the first stop you make at Mara­cas be­fore even putting your toes in the sand. And that makes to­tal sense.

Sim­mone Ed­win, one of our res­i­dent chefs at Propa Eats, is fa­mous for fus­ing in­ter­na­tion­al in­flu­ences with the foods and flavours we love most lo­cal­ly. Chef Sim­mone takes in­spi­ra­tion from Japan and cre­ates the ul­ti­mate Tri­ni break­fast ra­men. Her mas­ter­piece is made up of toma­to cho­ka broth, cur­ried dev­iled eggs and geera-and-cin­na­mon-spiced ba­con. Are you drool­ing yet? Be­cause we are.

Since their ar­rival in 1845, East In­di­ans, not on­ly with­in T&T, but through­out the West In­dies, have made and con­tin­ue to make an in­deli­ble mark on all spheres of life: the arts, acad­e­mia, pol­i­tics, cul­ture and more. Through­out the decades, the con­tri­bu­tions of the East In­di­an com­mu­ni­ty have be­come part of our main­stream cul­ture and have added fur­ther char­ac­ter and dis­tinc­tion to our mul­ti-eth­nic artis­tic ex­pres­sions.

There’s noth­ing more com­fort­ing than a big bowl of creamy, cheesy pas­ta. So luck­i­ly for you, this recipe tastes ex­act­ly like your fa­vorite restau­rant-style pas­ta Al­fre­do — ex­cept we added a few more in­gre­di­ents, so it’s burst­ing with sa­vory sun-dried toma­to and herb fla­vor. Be­cause of the toma­to, this toma­to Al­fre­do sauce turns slight­ly pink, which is dif­fer­ent to the tra­di­tion­al white Al­fre­do sauce we’re used to. Best part is you don’t have to leave your house to en­joy it.

As we con­tin­ue to adapt to the mul­ti­ple changes in our lives, we rec­og­nize that the im­pact on chil­dren and ado­les­cents has been sig­nif­i­cant. Re­cent ar­ti­cles have iden­ti­fied teens as a group of “un­sung he­roes” of these times, as they have had to rapid­ly ac­cept an abrupt end to their school year, missed mile­stones in­clud­ing grad­u­a­tions for which they are griev­ing and changes to their re­la­tion­ships with friends.