She must have been about 17 or 18 and I about 4 or 5 because I remember standing in my grandaunt's kitchen having agreed, with a nod, to a cookie or something when my young aunt had asked me if I wanted a snack. Kneeling in front of me she tried to coax and bribe me out of my shyness so that I asked for it by speaking up. I couldn't. So I simply stood there, blinking, head down, tongue tied while I felt my lips pursing up, hoping she would give it to me still because I really, really wanted it. And of course she did. That was my first memory of my Aunt Montel. Thirty years on I found myself coaxing recipes from her instead. Recipes that she would not normally share because those were her trade secrets. Food was a constant in her home even at the oddest hours. I think she was born with a whisk and a wok in each hand and landed feet first in the kitchen. She was a foodie in every sense of the word. Sadly, she passed on a couple of months ago, a little too early. Sh...
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