Sweet culinary moments remembered

Memories are curious things, aren't they? Some people are surprised at my ability to recall meals devoured decades ago.

No, I don't possess a photographic memory; rather, I associate food to the occasions and locales in which they're savoured.

For example, the first time Mr T and I went for breakfast in Blarney – it was a big step for us so I do remember the rather regrettable encounter with poorly executed scrambled eggs, courtesy of a microwave, and an affronted chef when I dared to request a redo. It's not the eggs themselves I remember, but rather the pivotal event they marked. This is the way I remember places and food.

When thinking of Malta, I remember a quaint little restaurant run by a husband and wife team. It was located on top of a steep hill and when I stepped in, I saw three boisterous American women who gave the waitress/wife a hard time. Their disruptive behaviour continued until the towering figure of the husband, standing what seemed seven feet tall, intervened, ushering them out.

Seated at my table, I studied the menu, ultimately selecting handmade ravioli adorned with the freshest of tomato sauces. Even now, the memory of those tomatoes' sweetness and the ravioli's tender texture still lingers in my memory.

Thoughts of Izmir summon recollections of a street-side vendor selling stuffed mussels, a treat procured by a neighbour whilst I babysat her baby daughter. Though not typically fond of mussels, this rendition, brimming with vegetables and garlic, captivated my taste buds.

Or when I think about my friend Anita, I remember the delicious crespelli her husband prepared for us – pancakes filled with ricotta cheese baked in a delicious sauce. I remember the relaxed evenings we had over a bottle or two of good wine.

One particularly cherished recollection transports me to my maiden foray into fine dining, accompanied by my grandmother. The dish: a flawlessly executed filet of sole, enrobed in a velvety lemon butter emulsion, alongside a delicate rice timbale. The conversation that ensued between my grandmother and the proprietor underscored the significance of early culinary education, a testament to her influence on my gastronomic journey.

There are so many memories that I associate with food and of course, there are hopefully many more to come. A lot of my latest food memories are of course with the wonderful Mr T – we just returned from a month-long holiday and when I think back over the past few weeks, I remember the best ever sangria in an Irish pub (where else would you find Irish people abroad?).

Here's to the inexhaustible wellspring of memories yet to be made, steeped in the rich tapestry of places, people, and, of course, delicious fare. Cheers to the culinary odyssey that lies ahead!