I have shared with you, my new favourite author and promised some more excerpts from her writings.  This is first of many from “Delicious” which is the story of three generations of  Italian women and the old kitchen in Campania which binds then together.

“Food was what she loved.  Shopping for it at the market stalls piled with glossy, purple-coated aubergines, dirt-dusted field mushrooms, ripe red peppers and artichokes with their hard green leaves tightly clasping their hearts.  She loved unpacking her bounty and imagining the extra life she could bring to it with a lashing of chili sauce or a sizzle in oil over high heat.  But most of all she loved eating it, greedily tasting as she cooked , licking her fingers and the backs of spoons, piling it onto plates and bowls, or sometimes eating more than good for her right out of the pan.  Marketing strategies and leveraging opportunities were all very well but she could hardly be blamed if they didn’t fill her with the same passion as a tray of slow-roasted tomatoes bathed in balsamic vinegar or a slab of beef braised with red wine and onions until the meat fell softly from the bone….

She was clever with food, always had been.  As a child she helped her mother, Maria, in the kitchen almost from the moment she could walk.  First she’d been allowed to stand on a chair and stir the gravy for the Sunday roast to stop it sticking and then she’d graduated to rolling out the pastry when her mother made a pie, stealing the off-cuts for jam tarts and turn overs.

When she looked back over those years, it was the tastes and smells of the meals they’d made together that stoked Chiara’s memory more than any particular event or moment.  Still vivid in her mind were winter dishes of pork sausages wrinkled from simmering in thick brown gravy, huge comforting helpings of shepherd’s pie with a crispy crust of cheddar, or plates filled with oven-roasted cod and fat crinkle cut chips that they could never resist wrapping in over-buttered soft white bread and devouring as the heat of the fried potato melted the butter which ran down their hands.”

You can see that Chiara has not embraced her Italian heritage at this stage and those delicious chapters are yet to come.

Kath’s quote: “It is impossible to read English novels without realizing how important a part food plays in the mental as in the physical life of the Englishman.”-Elisabeth Luther Cary (1867-1936)

The world is such a small place these days.  When we were on our way home from Isla Mujeres earlier this month, I bumped into Laura (who I have written about often in this space), at the Cancun airport.  We embraced and got caught up on each other’s time away as well as some of the projects that we are mutually working on back home.  Then we compared travel itineraries.  We were heading back to Winnipeg and she and her husband had the same destination but were routed through Houston.  Our connections went quite smoothly but they missed their connection, had to overnight in Houston and then rework their route.    The very next day, they too were in Chicago O’Hare airport.  Had I blogged about our meal earlier, perhaps they would have been able to use the info.  A small world, indeed.

As soon as we deplaned, we were on the lookout for somewhere we could watch the Jets game, as well as a spot that served a good selection of locally brewed beer.  Blackhawks fit the bill on both fronts.

The team behind Stanley’s Southern Food with 2 other locations in downtown Chicago, has partnered with the Chicago Blackhawks to open this airport eatery in terminal 2 at O’Hare. Decorated with Blackhawks memorabilia, the restaurant offers items based on the original six NHL cities -including a New York sandwich, Montreal sandwich and a Chicago one that’s packed with spicy Vienna all-beef polish sausage, grilled onions and mustard.

D had the Toronto burger (did they intentially make this look less impressive than the American team’s?)

The Son had the Elvis Presley Burger.  He claimed it was so good that you didn’t need any condiments.  And he should know-he’s a burger aficionado.

My burger was also named for one of the original six.  I can’t for the life of me remember which one right now.

I was underwhelmed with my choice.

Several Stanley’s staples are also on hand, including the restaurant’s mac and cheese.

Daughter #3 choose this impressive shaved turkey Reuben. 

 Turned out the Jets game wasn’t on (we had the date wrong) but the local beer and most of our food choices made up for it.

 Kath’s quote: “Throughout history, the Poles have defended Europe. They would fight, and – between battles – they would eat and drink.”-
E. de Pomiand

Islanders love paint and I am enthralled byt the vibrancing of the colours that they choose.

Beauty in symmetry.

Purchasing advertising for a career, I was enchanted by this simple and yet effective manner to get their sales message across.

People who know me and love me-call me Kath.  I thought that Isla was speaking to me here, with a silent “k”.

Doesn’t this colour combination look like something out of the 50s?  Love it.

I am also fascinated by what seaspray and humidity does to wood and paint.

And even how the sea air shapes concrete.

I imagine if Ernest Hemingway ever came to Isla to fish, he would have stayed here.

I could live the rest of my days, in this simple place.

The additional touches of the palm trees are gorgeous.

You can see why I have a particular fondness for the doors of Isla because they are painted various hues from the sea (my favourite colour).

I also get a kick of focusing in really tight on something obscure-in this case the top ledge of the seawall.  I saw the image of a bird in the paint.

This chair could have been in Van Gogh’s bedroom masterpiece.

This one reminds me of our travels through Italy.

“Let’s go up the ladder to the roof, where we can see heaven much better….”

This door is coupled with my second favourite colour-lavender.

Hearts (=love in my language) are everywhere on Isla, even in their graffiti.

Almost sadder than the conclusion of an Isla vacation, is the drawing to a close, the recounting of our time on Isla.  On these days I wake in anticipation of snuggling up in my fuzzy turquoise housecoat with a creamy coffee in my hand-made turquoise mug (seeing a theme here?) to remember and write and relive the time.  I do so as the sun is rising on the Canadian prairies and even though it is not the Isla sun that virtually assaults you on the island, it still holds the beauty and promise of a new day.  You may think that I live a life of leisure-affording the time to be spent in this way.  In the spring I will spend this time discovering the new things sprouting in my garden,  in the summer by beachcoming the shore at our cottage, in the fall-with morning rides on my vintage turquoise bicycle (now you’re thinking that this woman is obsessed!), but in winter, I am content to spend the hours from 7-9 am in this way. And then the business of my life begins.

But for now, onto departure day….

We have a number of Isla traditions on our final day.

I always get up in time for our last sunrise.

We always take sad face photos while we wait for the ferry.

I love this view from the ferry dock but when I arrive, I am always so excited, that I never pause long enough to get out my camera.  But in an effort to savour every last, sweet moment, I often capture this shot just before the ferry starts the journey across the bay. 

I always hold a landmark in my gaze, until it disappears compeletely.  This time it was our west facing window from our hotel.

I always interview my fellow travellers to find out their fiondest memories before they have a chance to fade:

Most Memorable Meals: Rooster for New Year’s Day breakfast, Da Luisa, Poc Chuc loncheria & Bastos Grill.

Favourite Part of the island: the east shore in front of Naciente, the seawall, the hammock on our balcony, Play Medina Luna, the shelling beach.

Most Fun Day: first day at the beach, wedding anniversary dinner, watching football at Jax, night out with D.

Best Shopping on Isla: Hortencia’s, the leather shop, Navy store,the other markets stalls by Hortencia’s.

Biggest Isla Surprize: the lovely weather, the banos, that no one got sick, how good the beach massage was, what a wonderful host Don Salome was, the spider at Soggy peso, not seeing Javi a single time.

Place with the prettiest turquoise water:  between the docks on Palya Sol, in our swimming pool, by the Poc Na hostel, on the ferry ride, by the seawall, at Garrafon.

These beautiful eyes seemed very concerned that we would be returning to Isla again.  And so for this and so many other reasons, we will.  Isla will always be a part of our lives. 

Kath’s quote: “If you reject the food, ignore the customs, fear the religion, and avoid the people, you might better stay home.”-James Michener

For those of you who faithfully read my blog on a daily basis, I apologize that this is not a typical day for me.  I do have a post half written that I could have spent my time touching up and publishing but I needed to spend this morning differently.

You see, I must leave shortly for a “Celebration of Life” service which is a name that I like far better than funeral.  She was a “lake” friend of mine.  One of the many special friends that I spend time with in the summer-mostly in snatches when we great each other on the path to the beach or sometimes for impromptu coffees or dinners.  The last time I dined with Barb was when she hosted us after we planted a memorial tree for my brother. 

I have to leave shortly but spent my time instead setting the table for a dinner party that I am hosting tommorrow.  We are saying good by to a dear friend of ours who is “retiring” to England.  We will be joined by other special friends including our dear ones who live in Castle del mare del Golfo in Sicily.  All the people assembled will have visited them there at one time or another.

And so I have put out special lace place mats, a gift from Sister #3’s friend from China.  I have set out my best (relatively unstained) linen, huge goblets and my very best china.  Iwas gifted this a year ago by Sister #2 and have only used them once.  As I set the table, I asked myself, why?  Why did Barb have to die but also, why don’t we always celebrate our life by putting out our best china?  Every day is sweet and every day may be our last.  Barb did not know this as she got into her car after babysitting her grandchildren.

Make it a good day.  I really mean this.  Hug a stranger, tell someone dear that you love them.  Laugh for no real reason.

K