My mother was a fantastic cook. In fact, I thought everyone ate like we did. Homemade bread, fresh enchiladas, great soups, and Sundays feast for family and friends were always part of the menu. Pineapple cakes where half had coconut and the other half did not were also available to suit individual’s personal preferences. On the weekends, there would be mornings where my mother would ask us what we wanted for breakfast and she may get five different request. Yet, all our wishes were there when we sat down at the table. You talk about happy kids.
Homemade food, made from love. In my mind, I can still smell the bread in the oven. I am so glad that memories are forever.
“We do not remember days; we remember moments.”
– Cesare Pavese