Her back was as long and graceful as the bouquet of snow white lilies she held in her slender fingers and as I watched this lovely bride walk to the altar to be wed it dawned on me that this was Gaby, my husband’s niece whom I’d met when she was a wee bitty baby of 15 months and my heart skipped a beat in shock that the time had dared trick me into passing this quickly so that we were here, in this ever lasting moment, witnessing her marriage on a cool November night.

I’d met Gaby only yesterday it seemed. Cradled in the arms of her father we’d been introduced in the dusty hot plains of Venezuela. I remember a lanky baby straddled around her dad’s comforting hold, a mess of bouncy curls and an …Read on

Once upon a time there was a very young lady and a not-quite-as-young man (a scandal left for another story) that were carefree, adventurous and childless. On a whim, they decided to tour the country of Spain, and as was their manner, to tour it in full culinary detail. Of course, this dashing duo tackled with the small inconvenience of being broke and feared little finance would serve as a burden in their experience of food.

They were joined by other friends on this journey that took place in the heart of a scorching summer twenty years ago and together they all crammed into a tiny and dusty red Ford Fiesta and, listening to endless rounds of Chrissie Hynde’s “Brass in Pocket” and Mecano’s melancholic “Aire” explored their souls and the Iberian peninsula for a sultry five …Read on

When you spend three weeks on an unbridled culinary adventure through France, Israel and Spain there are many, many stories to tell.  Of course, there are museums and family visits and landmarks to explore, but when you are traveling with my clan, who specializes in coordinating all travel events around the food, there is so much more.  Who else makes the 400 kilometer journey from Madrid to the unforgettable Basque country for a lunch date, albeit one at the memorable Mugaritz, the number four restaurant in the world?  Yes, there are stories to tell and images to follow.  And I promise, I will tell them all.  I have been back in the States less than a week and I still have trouble processing all the flavors.  All the sights.  All the food.

But really, truly and honestly, I can’t …Read on

In my last post I announced fruits and veggies would be on my mind, and so I have been thinking about pineapples. I feel they’ve been shamed in my sub-tropical turf of South Florida: they keep appearing packaged in odd, cylindrical shafts in the supermarket: peeled, cored and ruined of outer beauty, all for the unbeatable price of $5.99. The pineapple, known to scientists as ananas comosus, has a rich and long history, dating back to its origins in Southern Brazil and Paraguay before the Spanish explorers got wind of this delectable fruit when they reached the new land. After the Spaniards got in on things, they took it back to Europe where it made its way to the Phillipines and eventually Hawaii. The rest is history. And that’s history I don’t want to see pre-packaged …Read on

What she didn’t know is that I dream of being a fish, a dolphin, a whale; anything slick and fast that navigates easily through salty waters, pushing all worries away.  Night after night after night I’d become this aquatic creature and slip through miles upon miles of space with only speed serving as my guide.  Occasionally I stir things up a bit and jump to the surface, sporadically breaking the wall of water for a moment of bright blue sky, hot sun, and prowling birds.  But that is gone in an instant, because once again I dive low and deep and swim, swim, swim, fast and furiously.

“You’re here practically every day, honey” she noted, slightly amused.  She was an older woman from one of the islands and she’d been working here for years, parked between produce and …Read on