Nana wasn’t a gourmet cook … her ingredients were simple and generally staples from her well-stocked pantry. But there was something about Nana’s meals … the flavors were always so delicious and satisfying that whatever she made was a joy to eat. My guess is that it was the secret ingredient of Love. I try to add a dash of that into every dish I make and when I cook from her recipes or use the few pieces of kitchenware that belonged to her, it takes me back to those cherished times sitting at her kitchen table having a chat with something yummy and a cuppa tea.
It was her birthday and she had gone for a morning summer sail alone. She dropped the anchor in a cove off her favorite beach at Angel Island, stretched out in the sunshine and fell asleep. She dreamt of pristine white sand beaches and clear, turquoise water, delicate coral waving from rocky reefs teeming with rainbow-hued fish and dolphins playing tag with each other. She swam for hours in her dream, at ease with the sea creatures swirling around her and never needing to come up for air.
Vivo O Sonho 