Even stranger, we had the foggiest summer in decades. The kind of damp weather that gets to your bones. And we had no spring whatsoever as it rained right up until the end of June when the fog started. Weird.

Of course I’m loving the sunny weather as I can walk to see Monterey Bay on my lunch breaks, poke around in the garden at home or just sit and let the warm rays soak into my skin. Also nice not to start or end the day driving to or from work in wild wind and pouring rain. The reality, however, is this coming summer we’ll be coming up short on water, on rationing and with a dead garden.

Despite the balmy days, as soon as the sun sets it gets chilly real fast. And while most of the country has had warmer weather than usual this year, it’s definitely not popsicle time! Live in Alaska? You wish we could help you by pulling the storms south.  Believe me, some of us would  if we could!

All this is to say, that this is the time of year when I most enjoy a cup of hot vanilla and a couple of cookies, whether I have the rare opportunity to sit on the couch and read the paper, or I’m snuggled under flannel sheets with a book.

Hot Vanilla! Or, should I say, Haute Vanilla? When we serve hot chocolate, it doesn’t mean a cup of melted chocolate.  It’s made of cocoa or finely chopped bar chocolate with milk and maybe a marshmallow. So why is it that we don’t see hot vanilla on the menu at Starbucks or Peet’s Coffee?

Hot or haute, I love a cup of warm cow, soy or almond milk, richly flavored with vanilla extract or paste and with  a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg. It’s soothing, it doesn’t have the alkaloids of chocolate, no caffeine — just a smooth, slightly sweet and very delicious flavor to calm me down and warm me up. Like this, for instance.

Even though some of you may have made New Year resolutions to avoid sweets and you might still be adhering to your resolutions, there are a lot of us (okay, at least me) who think that it’s very civilized to have a couple of cookies along with a warm beverage.

My assistant Gina brought in some Almond-Oat Lace Cookies a couple of weeks ago. She had baked them as a gift for a friend and  had two left so she kindly shared one with me. It was all I could do to keep from tackling her for the other one. Instead,  I immediately took the butter out of the freezer and made a double batch of these seductive, delicate treats.

If you’ve every had Lacey’s you know how addictive these cookies are. But what’s interesting is that as much as I like chocolate, I prefer these cookies plain. The chocolate kind of overpowers them. Here’s the recipe.

I made the cookies with Bob’s Red Mill gluten-free all purpose flour, but I didn’t add any xanthum or guar gum to them. As a result, they spread a lot, making them super-thin. If you want to make sandwich cookies with chocolate chocolate centers, and you use gluten-free flour, you’ll want to add a pinch of one of the gums.

In the meantime, I hope you’ll try some haute, hot vanilla. If you do, let me know what you think. And if you have any suggestions or improvements on the beverage, please do share!

When January comes around, everyone else is partied out and we retail workers, ready at last to celebrate, most often do it on our own. However, as a January baby,  January is my month, whether with friends or without and I do my best to make it memorable.

As Christmas and the new year fell on Sundays  I’ve had a few extra days off from the market where I create new recipes, prepare the food and engage customers in the fun.  Instead, I  cleaned and polished the house, put the garden to bed for the winter, and  sent out belated greetings to family and friends. Today  I rewarded my hard work with an indulgence: Dungeness crab.

My family moved to California when I was three years old. My parents immediately discovered this most delicate of crustaceans and it was a standard on our table each New Year and several more times in the early months of the year.

Crab season begins in California just before Thanksgiving most years and runs until May or June.  The exact dates vary due to availability of the crabs and the weather, but it is a revered tradition with many of us who live along the Coast to enjoy crab during the holidays and in the late winter when they are at their best.  Later in the season they’re not as good, they become less available, and the price goes up. This is as it should be; we rarely eat it often enough that it becomes too familiar and loses its appeal.

As I walked to the harbor early this afternoon, it was warm in the sunshine, cool in the shade, and the water sparkled.  People worked on their boats, removed holiday lights, dogs trotted by their owner’s sides and workers spruced up the paint on out buildings. A beautiful winter day.

Thinking about the crab I was about to purchase brought back a slew of  memories. In my home there was a standard meal for crab. There was plenty of crab to go around, nutcrackers to open every joint and crevice for the sweet meat,  mayonnaise in several bowls, a large romaine salad with vinaigrette, and warm sourdough bread and butter. A large empty bowl sat in the middle of the table where we discarded the shells.  It was heavenly.

We kids reached for the legs and ate our crab as quickly as we could crack the shells and pry out the sweet meat. We paid no attention to the salad or bread; we were only focused on the prize. By contrast, my mother chose the carapace with its thin white membrane separating the meat in small chambers. Very carefully she removed the meat from the matrix and placed it in a tidy little mound in the center of her plate.  While she worked she ate salad and drank wine.

Soon our share of the crab was gone and we were left with the reality of  salad and bread. It was now that my mother tucked into her crab, daintily dipping it into the mayonnaise and savoring each bite.  I remember wondering how she had such willpower to create the lovely pillow of crabmeat with only a little nibble here and there. Much older now, I’ve learned the value of patience.

Crab is enjoyed in many ways.  While I haven’t eaten at the wharf in San Francisco for decades, I imagine that it hasn’t changed much. You could order a whole crab in the restaurants or pick them up next to the steaming pots outside, tended by workers who got the crabs from the Italian and Portuguese families who ran the small white boats in the Bay, dropped the traps, checked them daily and sold them to their friends and relatives at the wharf.

You could have a crab cocktail with a tomato sauce that I have never  liked, eaten using small seafood forks and with lemon squeezed over all.  Or you could order a Crab Louis, a salad made with iceberg lettuce, tomato chunks, hard-boiled eggs, a hefty serving of shelled crab and a dressing similar to Thousand Island but not quite so sweet.  In my opinion, these recipes  smother the delicate sweetness of the crab.

I’ve had crab cakes — some memorable, some memorable for all the wrong reasons, Italian cioppino, Chinese-style crab, served hot with a black-bean sauce, rich and decadent crab and artichoke casserole and even crab quiche and ravioli.

But really fresh crab on its own, whether served with drawn butter or homemade aoili, is my idea of wonderful.

The least expensive place to procure crabs other than setting traps yourself, is to go to the harbors or wharfs where the boats come in. No middle man or wholesale-to-retail charges.  As I wasn’t prepared to wait for boats, I went to my favorite little dive — an unmarked fish depot tucked underneath a solitary restaurant and next to a boat repair facility.  Prices are scribbled on a board, the floors are wet, the fresh catch of fish is iced in a barrel and the live crabs are in a big tub outside.

A cute young man, probably not old enough to legally drink, was taking an order by phone. He had on a rubberized apron and rubber boots and clearly was no beginner at his trade. He fished a crab out for me, weighed it on the scale and called 2.06 pounds as 2.  He did me the favor of whacking the crab with a wooden mallet, wrapped it and put some ice in the bag to keep it cold while I walked home. It was $2.50 a pound cheaper than the market price and and far fresher.

While the water boiled I prepared a salad and made fresh aoili, which is my recommendation unless you are a dyed-in-the-wool drawn butter person from the East Coast.

I placed the crab and aoili on top of my salad, poured a glass of Pinot Grigio and sat in the sunshine on my deck until it dipped behind the pines. This is my idea of the perfect way to begin a new year.

A word about aioli: First, it’s really easy to make, whether by hand or in a food processor or blender.  Second, there are many variations on the theme.  You can add as much garlic as you’d like, fresh herbs, use a blend of oils, use just lemon juice or a mix of vinegar and citrus.  The one very  unusual ingredient that is anything but traditional, is a dash of pure vanilla!

Sounds crazy, I know, but vanilla adds some unexpected depth along with a hint of sweetness.  I had a moment of hesitation before adding it the first time and was more than pleasantly surprised.  Try it: if you don’t like it don’t use it again.  I suspect you may become a believer like me. Here’s my recipe for aioli.

I am envisioning a wonderful year for us all.

I’m not sure which came first for me — discovering a love of dessert through baking or baking because I love dessert. While the answer might appear obvious,  we didn’t have daily dessert when I was a child nor did my brother or I have access to stores on our own as we lived several miles from town.

However, my first  forays into the kitchen included baking cookies.  My mother also made glorious pies and when she made them, we were right next to her as she would take the last bits of crust and make jam-filled turnovers. So, however it came about, I’m a fool for dessert as well as a fool for baking. And if there is ever a time for dessert, it’s during the holidays!

This year I was overtaken by retail.  I worked at New Leaf Market  six days straight before Thanksgiving. My business was  in high gear at the same time. There was no time to think of baking though I was surrounded by pies, cakes and cookies at the market. The Christmas push began the day after Thanksgiving and I worked seven of the last nine days before Christmas at New Leaf.  I got off work at 5:00 pm Christmas Eve, and I baked a Christmas pie within an hour of getting home, just before my daughter, son-in-law and grandsons burst onto the scene to celebrate.

This pie is why I’m writing tonight about egg whites.  It’s the most amazing pie I’ve ever developed.  I will give you the recipe, just not today.  In fact, I really don’t want to share the recipe at all except for the fact that I made limoncello as my holiday gift this year.  Not everyone is Italian and thinks that a hot day must be made better with a glass of icy, syrupy limoncello, so I felt obliged to share the recipe so that my friends know what to do with the contents in the beautiful bottle. And if I’m sharing it with them, I may as well share it with you.  To repeat myself, just not today.

Egg whites.  One of the ingredients in the incredible pie is lemon curd.  The recipe calls for 3 egg yolks and 3 whole eggs.  The question invariably then arises about how to use the egg whites. And while sensible people would use them in an omelet or fritatta, I’d rather use them in dessert. And the best desserts that come to mind that use only egg whites are meringues and marshmallows.

My first choice was meringue.  On the front of the December Sunset magazine was a picture of perfectly formed meringue cookies, some of the bases dipped in dark chocolate and the tops studded with pieces of crushed peppermint candy.  Yes, I thought, I’ll whip up some lovely meringue cookies, fill them with a blend of Guittard white and dark chocolate, and cover them with peppermint.

There was also an article in the San Francisco Chronicle’s baking page where several Bay Area chefs shared peppermint dessert recipes.  In said article was the suggestion that you use small peppermint candy canes as there is a larger surface area that’s pink and it will look better on the dessert.

By the time I had decided to make the cookies, it was less than two  weeks before Christmas and the miniature candy canes were on sale. I came home from work with boxes of candy canes and heated the oven first thing.  I whipped up the egg whites with cream of tartar and sugar.  Only problem was I forgot that I had three egg whites instead of two and that the three were from jumbo eggs.  Ooops.

The whites became quite thick but somehow bypassed the stiff peak stage and went on to an almost marshmallow cream texture.  By now it was 9:00 pm and I was in no mood to fight it.  I added the chocolate and plopped the gooey blobs onto parchment and sprinkled them with the peppermint candy I had smashed with a meat tenderizer.  They came out puffed but certainly nothing like the beauties on the cover of Sunset.

I didn’t care.  The staff at New Leaf eats anything that shows up in the break room, which is great as  experiments gone awry are never wasted.  What I hadn’t anticipated was the number of compliments I received.  “Those are amazing,” was the general consensus.  So I decided to make them again so that I could take a photo, only this time I’d make them right.

And I did.  However, the reality is the first batch was better.  The trick, it seems, is to underbake the cookies so they aren’t dry.  That way the peppermint doesn’t get hard and the chocolate stays soft.  Here’s the recipe.  Even though Christmas is over, no one will care that you have leftover candy canes in the cookies.  We’re all so addicted to sweets during cold weather that no one will think about it. Here you go.

The second option is homemade marshmallows.  Light, delicate pillows of sweetness that have hardly any calories.  You can eat them as a way to wean yourself from your holiday high without gaining more than another pound or two.  Hey, that’s a whole lot better than eating toast and gravy!

David Lebovitz gave me a wonderful recipe for marshmallows a long time ago and it’s a good one.  David’s Marshmallows

If you want to go over-the- top, make the marshmallows and then let them rest for a day or two so that they’re not super moist. Then take a 12-ounce bag of dark chocolate chips, add a tablespoon of butter, and melt in the microwave. Start with one minute, then stir. Add 30 seconds and stir again until melted.

One at a time, drop the marshmallows into the chocolate, coating all sides. Lift out with a fork. While the marshmallow is still on the fork, tap off the excess chocolate and place it on a sheet of parchment or foil. Sprinkle with jimmies, if you wish, and let them sit until dry.  Eat them as they are or drop them into cups of steaming hot chocolate.

Now aren’t these two desserts better than an egg-white omelet?

Happy New Year from the V.Q.!

However, for quite a while I’ve been intrigued about using squash as edible containers for serving food.  They’re quirky, fun,  add to the decor and, at the end of the day they’re off to the compost.  Sweet.

I decided that the customers at New Leaf Market provided the opportunity for  indulging my fantasy — certainly they’d be interested to see them live in 3-D even if they never actually made them at home.  I was further invested as the head of produce asked me to come up with a way to move the little decorative-but-edible squash that poured into the market in October.

After some research I decided to tackle three different squash:  The darling little flat-topped pumpkins, the slightly larger and more oval-shaped decorative pumpkins and a big kabocha squash.   I prepared them according to the directions below and was hugely relieved that they turned out just the way they were supposed to, though a little brown in spots, which  just added to their charm.  I was further relieved as I ruined the pilaf recipe that would be used to stuff the kabocha squash, at least in theory, as I had no intention of actually stuffing it.  It was, after all, my display and the pilaf would get cold, so it would be served separately.

The kitchen was running at warp speed as we now have a hot entree table and salad bar, and hands were flying to prep all the food.  I launched the squash into the oven and then made the pilaf, dodging workers carrying chickens to the oven and pulling out sweet potatoes.  Unfortunately, what I thought was brown rice (logical, as it was right next to the white rice in the bins) was actually wheat berries.  And I didn’t get it until all the components of the pilaf had been sauteed and were cooking in the broth.

1-1/2 hours later, the wheat berries were as hard as BB’s and there was no hope they’d soften before midnight.  I nevertheless bravely brought the inedible pilaf to the floor, then deflected the samplers’ attention  to the beautiful squash bowls that could be filled with a fluffy, delicious pilaf as long as they used rice, not wheat berries.  Fortunately, it worked.

The best part about all of this is that the squash bowls are really simple to make and everyone will be incredibly impressed that you made them.  Here’s how you do it:

Mini Pumpkin bowls

Choose the littlest pumpkins with flat tops and bottoms. You may want to make a couple of extras in case of an unlikely, but possible, disaster. If you find you have a few that don’t sit flat, cut a thin slice from the bottom until it they are even, taking care not to pierce deeply into the pumpkin.

Set the pumpkins on a rimmed baking sheet lined with parchment or foil and rub them with olive oil. This will make them shine as if lacquered when they come out of the oven. Bake in a 350 degree oven until tender, about 30 minutes.  Let them sit for 10 – 15 minutes before cutting.

With a sharp knife, Cut around the stems leaving a 1-1/2 inch margin, to create lids wide enough to stuff.  Carefully scrape out seeds and some of the pulp with a small spoon. Quite honestly, the meat in the little pumpkins isn’t tasty so feel free to compost it.  If you get a small hole in the pumpkin, line it with a piece of foil or use your backup supply if necessary.

The little pumpkins are perfect for serving . ice cream or sorbet. Chill the little pumpkins in the refrigerator before filling. Pumpkin ice cream, of course, would be a natural, but any flavor is fine.

One easy-to-make flavor is persimmon.  The heart-shaped, astringent, Hachiya persimmons are the variety to use.  You will need four really ripe persimmons to 1 quart of good-quality vanilla ice cream or a non-dairy vanilla-flavored soy or coconut frozen dessert.  You will need about 1/2 teaspoon each of cinnamon and nutmeg or you could use 1 teaspoon of pumpkin pie spice.

Place the ice cream in a large bowl and allow it to soften but not melt. Scoop out the persimmon pulp, discarding the peel and blossom end and place the pulp and spices in a food processor and pulse until it is pureed.  Fold the puree into the vanilla ice cream, then freeze until firm enough to shape into balls.

Scoop whatever ice cream you choose into balls and put one in each small pumpkin.  You can grate quality dark chocolate over the ice cream balls (especially good on pumpkin and persimmon), put the tops on the little pumpkins, then carefully wrap and freeze them.  They will need to sit out for at about 20 minutes before serving.  You can also make the shells a day ahead and chill until ready to use.

Decorative Pumpkins as Soup Bowls

Choose slightly larger pumpkins as bowls for soup or pilaf.  Follow the instructions above, making the squash bowls the day ahead. Place bowls on salad plates, ladle soup into bowls, and serve.  Here’s a quick-but-delicious squash soup recipe that tastes homemade.

Big Squash Bowls for Serving Stews, Pilaf or Casseroles

The best containers for serving stews or casseroles are the kabocha and other hard-shell squashes as they hold their shape well when baked.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Rinse squash and pat dry. Place in a lined baking sheet or pan. Bake for 40 – 50 minutes or until squash is tender but not overly soft.  Let rest 15 minutes.

Cut around the stem to make a 4-inch lid. Remove lid and scrape out and discard seeds (or roast them for snacking). Brush interior of squash and inside of lid with 1 tablespoon olive oil. Sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper.  (You can make this the day ahead if you’d like and refrigerate it.  Warm it in the microwave or oven before stuffing it.)

You can also cut open the top while the squash is raw, hollow it, rub oil on the inside of the squash and sprinkle in salt and pepper.  I chose to cut it open after as it was a lot easier.

Carefully transfer the squash to a serving dish or platter and fill.  Use the top as a lid or set it next to the squash. If you are serving pilaf in the squash, you can carefully cut the squash lengthwise down to the serving plate – but not through the base – into 8-to-10 wedges. Gently open the wedges for a flower-like presentation. Kabocha squash have vertical lines you can use as a guideline (thoughtful of the squash to make it so easy). Each diner can take a wedge of squash with the pilaf.  Serve additional pilaf in a bowl for seconds.  This is one of my favorite pilaf recipes.

Whether or not you decide to go to go this route, you can buy squash pretty cheaply, especially at food stands in the countryside.  They make perfect table decorations, especially mixed with gourds and autumn leaves.  And, after Thanksgiving, you can always spray paint them silver or gold for the December holidays!  Ah, shades of Martha.

230,500 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer in the United States in 2012.  40,000 will die from it.   This means that 124 women per 100,000 will be diagnosed with breast cancer.

These are not acceptable odds.  Considering all of the awareness, events, education and research over the last 15 years, I think the numbers are shocking.  

So does Fran Visco.  Fran co- founded and is the  first president of  the National Breast Cancer Coalition  (NBCC).  A survivor of breast cancer since 1987, Fran was a partner in a Philadelphia law firm until leaving to head the NBCC.  In 1993, President Clinton appointed Ms. Visco as one of three members of the President’s Cancer Panel, and she was the first consumer to chair the Integration Panel of the Department of Defense Peer-Review Breast Cancer Research Program. She co-chaired the National Action Plan on Breast Cancer and served on the National Cancer Policy Board. Ms. Visco has testified before congressional committees, has lectured throughout the United States and internationally on the politics of breast cancer and women’s health advocacy issues and has been a frequent guest on national television discussing women’s health.

Two years ago I received a scholarship to attend the NBCC annual conference in Washington, D.C.  I had no idea of what to expect though I was impressed by their newsletters and intelligent discourse.   Although the conference was paid for, I was expected to pay for my airfare and two of the four days’ hotel room plus meals.  It was absolutely worth every penny I invested and more.

In addition to speakers, panels and breakout sessions, we were trained  to speak to Congressional members, requesting a guarantee from them to support an annual grant for cutting-edge research on breast cancer.  I have to say that I felt proud to walk the halls of Congress.  And I was proud that Representative Sam Farr, my representative in Congress, is a staunch supporter of breast cancer research.  His sister had breast cancer and his senior assistant’s sister died of it.

That’s not all about the NBCC.  The NBCC offers two eight-day intensive training seminars each year on the molecular biology of breast cancer and other important scientific data to women survivors of breast cancer so that these women can then do peer reviews of the grant requests for the annual research funds.  A team of these women will then monitor the research itself, often working alongside the scientists!

I actually applied for this program and was accepted, but had to decline as I was hired full time for a position outside of my business.  My hope is that I will be able to be involved in the future.

Another woman who is appalled by the statistics is Dr. Susan Love.  Dr. Susan Love is an American surgeon, a prominent advocate of preventative breast cancer research, and author. She is the president of the Dr. Susan Love Research Foundation, a non-profit organization that promotes and funds breast cancer research, and has a close involvement with the “Love/Avon Army of Women”, an organization that connects breast cancer researchers with women interested in participating in breast cancer research studies. She is a Clinical Professor of Surgery at the David Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA.   She was appointed by President Bill Clinton to the National Cancer Advisory Board.  She lectures nationally and internationally on breast cancer, menopause and women’s health. She is regarded as one of the most respected women’s health specialists in the United States.  Her book, Dr. Susan Love’s Breast Book, is in its 5th edition and is generally regarded as the “bible of breast-care books.”

The NBCC works closely with Dr. Susan Love.  Susan was at the conference and spoke.  Shortly afterward she began the Army of Women.  I immediately joined and have participated in one of the research studies.

It’s rare for women with Stage IV breast cancer  to participate in studies as we are considered terminal although we can live with breast cancer as a chronic disease for years, depending on where the cancer resides in the body. A few of us survive without evidence of breast cancer for the rest of our lives, though we are rare.  As breast cancer can survive in the body for decades before returning, we no longer look at five years clean as evidence of cure.

One of my personal campaigns is for greater awareness of the needs for women with advanced cancer, especially those of us who are single.  Not only is continual treatment debilitating, having a chronic disease is incredibly expensive.  I am deeply in debt from my journey with cancer and I have friends in far worse financial straits than me.  That said, it is difficult for us to advocate for ourselves as we usually have compromised health.  For this reason, I “carry the torch” in honor of my many friends who have already died or who are disabled from breast cancer.

In January of 2011 Fran Visco made a revolutionary statement.  She said that she was giving up hope for a cure for cancer.  Instead she was calling for an end to breast cancer by 2020.  Dr. Susan Love has joined her in this campaign and we can as well.

Breast Cancer Deadline 2020^{® is} a call to action for scientists, government and the entire breast cancer community to work together to end the disease by January 1, 2020.  The following is a quote from NBCC:

“NBCC and its supporters know that every second counting down to January 1, 2020 is more than time ticking by. Each moment on our clock represents women, men and families—the people we’ve lost, the people we love, the millions who have been affected by breast cancer and those who will be until we end this disease. Every second matters in the fight to end breast cancer.  So if you do only one thing today, please give $20 and put yourself On the clock.   Share your commitment with your friends and family, and commit to asking five of them to join you.”

I am very excited that the NBCC is as proactive and political as it is.  There is a lot of money to be made from cancer.  Cancer supports a huge network of doctors, scientists, pharmaceutical companies and all of their support staff.  Why would they want to end cancer except when it hits them personally? This is why we must join forces with the NBCC and The Army of Women if we are going to see the end of breast cancer by 2020.

There are a couple of things that you can do that will make a difference for everyone who has survived or who is facing breast cancer.  First,  Get on the clock.   Second, sign a petition requesting that President Obama endorse an end to breast cancer by 2020.  Finally, tell others about the NBCC and the Army of Women.  If you have expendable cash, consider making a donation.  If you are a breast cancer survivor or would like to take part in research studies, join The Army of Women.  Healthy women are also needed in the research studies as well as women with a family history of breast cancer.   Please consider joining the Army of Women in solidarity with all of us who want to see the end of breast cancer by 2020.  Let’s make it happen!

Together we can be the change we wish to see.

Cancer is a powerful word.  While heart disease affects more of us than cancer, there is something terrifying and alien about the idea of cells running amok in our bodies, creating tumors and causing havoc.  Cancer can be  a life threatening disease. Our first reaction is one of shock and dread; the reality is that we, or a person we love, will die from a disease for which there is often no cure.

I have lost many friends whom I have known through the years,  and many more whom I have met during my now eight-year journey since my diagnosis in 2003.  Women I became close to while receiving chemotherapy or attending  support groups.  Women at cancer retreats.  Women walking the halls of Congress soliciting research funds.  I am writing in honor of  all the beautiful, courageous women (and men) who have had this disease, whether I have met them personally or not, as we have walked the same path together.

Many of us are survivors,  but far too many of us did not survive. Those of us still here owe it to those who have died to speak up about the politics of breast cancer, to change the focus of breast cancer awareness from pink and early mammograms to the reality that people continue to die every day despite the pink and despite the billions of dollars dedicated to breast cancer research.

It is only in the last 25 – 30 years that people have talked openly about cancer.  In the 1950s and 60s it was quietly discussed between family members behind closed doors.  My aunt Patricia, for whom I was named, was first diagnosed with breast cancer in the early 1960s and only told her older sister she had cancer.  The rest of us were told  she had a benign cyst removed.  As there was very little research focused on breast cancer (about one woman in 20 got breast cancer at that time), doctors had only peer-based evidence for treatment.    Chemo treatments were brutal.

My aunt had a lumpectomy with no followup treatment for the tumor in her breast.  She was in her 30s.  The cancer spread to her abdomen,  and ultimately she took her life rather than to die slowly and painfully.  She was 42 years old.  I never knew the truth about her illness until I was diagnosed with stage 4 (very advanced) cancer in 2003.  My mother thought her sister died of stomach cancer.  My cousin told me what really occurred a month after my diagnosis.

My son-in-law’s mother, also Patricia, lived downwind from the atom bomb tests in Nevada and Arizona when she was a young teen.  She developed breast cancer in the early 1960s when she was also in her early 30s.  Neighbors shunned her and there were no support groups then to help her through her journey.  The cancer was aggressive and she died at 36, leaving behind two young children.

Fast forward to 2010.   The media now regularly covers breast cancer issues. We have our own awareness month.  We have  walkathons, marathons, telethons, pink bracelets, pink tennis shoes, pink just about everything.  Billions of dollars have been raised for research.  Are we any closer to a cure?  Not by a long shot!

Breast cancer awareness campaigns have brought the disease out from behind closed doors.  But guess what?  There has been no significant impact on the incidence of Stage 4 (very advanced)  breast cancer or mortality.  In fact,  more than 40,000 women (and over 400 men) die of breast cancer every year.  These figures have not changed since 1975.

I have a confession to make.  When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer in 2003, I was not well-informed.  I honestly believed that women no longer died of breast cancer; those that did, waited too long for a diagnosis.

Boy was I wrong!  I will explain some details of my cancer journey in a moment.  First, I think it’s important to talk about a few basics that are not generally well-known.

Breast cancer is not one disease.  It is a cluster of diseases that affect breast tissue or nipples.  Some forms of breast cancer are slow growing and are easily treatable. Other forms are very aggressive.  Research during the last ten years has identified some of the factors that drive the various types of breast cancer.

For instance,  Her2 positive breast cancer is caused by a protein, human epidermal growth factor receptor 2, which occurs in about 20% of breast cancers.  Caused by a gene mutation, Her2 occurs in other types of cancer as well.  It does not respond to hormone-based treatments and tends to be very aggressive.  However, in the last eight years two new drugs have come onto the market that are very effective in treating this form of cancer if caught early.

Less than 10% of breast cancers are hereditary.  There are some gene mutations that are hereditary and can trigger breast cancer.  However, the majority of breast cancers are not hereditary.  If your mother or aunt developed breast cancer at a young age, or if several women in your family have had breast cancer, it would be wise to find out if they carry a gene that would predispose you to breast cancer.

Most breast cancers occur as we grow older.  The majority of breast cancers are hormone sensitive.  An over production of estrogen, being overweight, exposure to environmental estrogens in meat, plastics or DDT, hormone replacement therapy, or exposure to repeated chest radiation as  a child or teen, increase the risk of getting breast  cancer.  This is true for both men and women.  As we age, our immune systems aren’t quite as effective as when we were younger.  The average age for women diagnosed with breast cancer is around 60.  Yes, young women do get breast cancer, but the vast majority get breast cancer later in life.

Certain ethnic and racial groups are more prone to triple negative breast cancer.  Triple negative breast cancer means that neither estrogen nor progesterone have been triggers for the cancer nor is the cancer Her2 positive.  This particular type of breast cancer is more common in African and African-American women, but by no means exclusively so.  There are fewer effective treatment options at this time for this cancer.

Mammograms are important as you will get diagnosed earlyand save your life!   Sadly, this is not necessarily true.

Many advocacy groups and organizations continue to run programs in the name of breast cancer prevention—defined as mammography screenings and breast self-examinations (BSEs). However, prevention does not mean mammograms and BSEs.  Prevention is stopping breast cancer before it develops.

As a result of awareness campaigns promoting mammography, the discovery of very early breast cancer (DCIS)  has increased and resulted in overtreatment for many women.  Most of these early cancers would go away with no treatment.  Rogue cells pop up in our bodies all the time.  Most of the time our immune systems fight these cells and kill them.  This is why a very early diagnosis of a mini-tumor can be an issue as it likely will disappear on its own without treatment.

Mammograms do not find all cancers.  This is absolutely true!  Many people have asked why I allowed the cancer to migrate to my liver before being diagnosed.  Did I skip out on mammograms?  Didn’t I check my breasts or go to the doctor?  In fact, I had a mammogram every year from the time I turned 39 and developed cystic breasts.  But guess what?  I had very dense breast tissue and the tumor was never noticed by mammography.  It wasn’t until I had a very painful lymph node removed from under my arm that I was diagnosed with cancer.  And, when I saw my primary care doctor about the painful lymph node, he told me that cancer doesn’t hurt!

The reality is that women with cystic breasts are at higher risk of breast cancer.  Women with dense breasts are at higher risk of breast cancer.  No one ever told me this nor did they suggest an ultrasound as a followup to a mammogram.  And a swollen lymph node under the arm is a huge red flag for breast cancer.

It is only in the last few years that information about these risks has been made available, but most women still don’t know about it!

If you have cystic breasts or are aware that you have dense breasts, ask for an ultrasound when you have a mammogram.  If you don’t know if you have dense breasts, ask the radiology tech!  Many women have dense breasts when they are young, but their breasts become less dense after menopause.  Know your body!

The truth is that scientists have been given billions of dollars of research money, but they still don’t know how to prevent breast cancer nor do they know how to stop metastasis (spread to distant organs).  Until these mysteries are solved, we will not be able to make a significant dent in morbidity and mortality of breast cancer.

What we do know is that there are things we can do to help our bodies stay strong and healthy.  It won’t provide a guarantee that you won’t get breast cancer, but if are proactive, you will have a greater chance of not getting breast cancer.

Tomorrow I will post some more truths about breast cancer, information about a couple of organizations that I believe are making a difference, and some suggestions about lowering your chances of ever getting breast cancer.

How do we measure time?  Years, decades, significant events, transformative experiences?

I’ve been pondering this over the past few weeks  for a couple of reasons.   The Vanilla.COMpany launched ten years ago August 21st.  Three weeks later, we collectively paused to acknowledge the impact of 9-11 and the ensuing decade.   Ironically, it was while using 9-11 as a measure of this last decade that I  was better able to grasp the impact of my own business on my life.

When Gina and I  talked over lunch on our company’s anniversary, we reflected on all that transpired during our decade of running the company.  Our  conclusion?  That we have remained in business for a decade is a miracle!  A month later, I realize that for me, this has been a decade of miracles.

I wanted to launch a business for a long time.  I come from a family of entrepreneurs, risk takers with a strong creative bent, so the idea of launching an Internet business  seemed perfectly reasonable even though it was still early in the world of online retail.

I had several micro-businesses over the years including Cat’s Print Cookies, which my daughter and I hawked at fairs and musical events,  and The Magical Brain Trust, a typing and editing business while my daughter was growing up.  In the 1980s I wrote several cookbooks and sold them along with related products, which included a small scale vanilla business after I wrote The Vanilla Cookbook (1986, Celestial Arts).

Then, in February of 1995, at the suggestion of a friend, I purchased vanilla.com.  I am the first and only owner.   I paid $35 a year, the going price for any and all URLs at the time. It sat unused for five years while I considered what to do with it.  Should I sell it or use it?  Should I take the leap and launch a real vanilla business or play it safe and find a secure job?

One morning in August of 2000 I awakened with an “Aha” moment.  I would turn two rooms of my house into an apartment, rent it out, put together a business plan and go for it!

It took a year to pull everything together.  During that time I assembled an amazing team, including Gina Tassone (aka The Contessa), who has been my right and left hand woman,  Kathy Long, who has dedicated untold hours over the years building two websites for our business, much of it pro bono,  and Brad Wise, who offered his creative expertise, including the layout for The Vanilla Chef and  graphics for trade shows and product handouts.  Over the years, there have been several other people who have worked with us full or part time or who have provided us with invaluable services.

I worked with the Small Business Development Center.  I found a great financial planner.  I took a huge leap of faith and took out a mortgage on my home.  I even consulted a respected astrologer about the best date for an official launch. (What can I say?  I live in Santa Cruz!)

I  debated whether to first go to Tahiti for research and photos for the site,  then launch the business, or launch the business then go to Tahiti.  Fortunately, as it turns out, I went to Tahiti first, then returned home and officially launched the business a few days later.

There were already a few cracks in the  Internet  infrastructure as the dot.com crash occurred about six months earlier.  While Internet commerce looked promising, it wavered when the dot.com bubble burst.  However, I was already months into building the website and moving forward and it seemed crazy to stop.  If it was slow at first, so be it.

September 9th I threw a launch party.  My daughter and son-in-law came from New York and friends and family from all over joined us.  It was an exciting leap into the unknown.  Also a terrific party.

Two days later, everything changed.  Amazingly enough, along with this great tragedy came the first of our miracles.

If I had gone to Tahiti, I would have been trapped there for at least three weeks.  My daughter and husband  would have been in Manhattan.  While neither worked near the Twin Towers, they lived just blocks from the UN, which was assumed would be the next target.

At the same time, my son-in-law’s father had emergency surgery in Arizona.  They borrowed a car and drove to Mesa to help him, which would have been impossible from New York.

The Anthrax Scare occurred on the heels of 9-11.  All of us with Internet or mail order businesses watched helplessly as sales plummeted.  Ours didn’t plummet; they didn’t happen.  While that’s not quite true, for for the first several months it was a big moment when each order arrived.  Ever resourceful, we pulled together a multi-vendor two-day boutique in December.  Despite the biggest storm of the year, people came and we limped through our first holiday season.

Global Vanilla Crisis!

Vanilla prices had been a low point for several years and farmers tore up their crops as they couldn’t afford to grow it for the price they were paid.  At the same time,  a cyclone in Madagascar, a 100 year flood in Mexico, and a serious drought in Indonesia, destroyed much of the available vanilla.  Over the next two years, vanilla prices soared to $550 a kilo at source!

Because of our site,  small farmers who normally didn’t have access to prices (the industry is known for its lack of transparency), contacted me.  I helped them find buyers for their crops and received a small commission from the importers.

The sales I helped to negotiate provided generators, trucks and other desperately needed commodities in Papua New Guinea and India.  The importers kindly allowed me to buy a few kilos of beans at a time as there was no way I could afford to buy directly from the growers.  Once again, we limped through but gained a reputation with the farmers.  And even when I couldn’t help the farmers I gave them something no one had ever offered — information and hope.  Some amazing bonds were forged during this time.

Then the unthinkable occurred.  Less than two-and-a-half years after launching The Vanilla.COMpany, I was diagnosed with terminal breast cancer.  One small lesion not detected by mammograms, one lymph node, and it was already in my liver.  I was given pills to hopefully slow down the progression of the disease and told to put my affairs in order.

At the time, I was writing Vanilla (2004, Tarcher; available on my site), we were in the middle of the hectic holiday season, and I was awaiting the birth of my first grandchild.  There was nothing that could have prepared either me or my business for this shocker.

Kathy hastily posted a web site for me so that friends, family and farmers could be kept informed of my condition.  Almost immediately, and quite unexpectedly, I was showered with a world of miracles.

Farmers and many others worldwide began to pray for me.  In Hindu temples, Mosques, evangelical churches,  schools and even entire villages, people prayed that I might somehow survive.  It was both astonishing and humbling, a truly transformative experience.

Kaiser Hospital made an exception and allowed me to join my daughter and son-in-law at the birth of my first grandson, Theo, three weeks after my final diagnosis.  Holding him against my breast while I rocked him the following day, it felt as if the hand of  God was healing me.  During this dark period I grew to understand the significant difference between healing and curing.

As I drove home a week after Theo was born, I created a mantra that served me well through treatment: 

Shrinking, leaving, healing, curing.  Strong, healthy, cancer-free.

For the next four-and-a-half years I was in aggressive treatment.  I went into complete remission twice, a miracle in itself.  But one tumor in my liver continued to return.  Finally, in May of 2008, I had a surgery that is rare for breast cancer patients.  Forty percent of my liver was removed, along with the tumor.  More than three years later, I have remained cancer-free.

Needless to say, intensive cancer treatment took a heavy toll on my body, and our very expensive small business insurance and the costs not covered by insurance used up the equity in my house.  But I am alive.

During the nearly eight years since my diagnosis my second grandson, Zane, came into the world, I traveled to Europe, Mexico, Cuba and China and met and worked with farmers and research scientists.  In 2005, just before beginning a year of aggressive chemotherapy, I attended the inaugural Women Leaders for the World training through the Global Women’s Leadership Network at Santa Clara University.

I have spoken at the Smithsonian Institution, The Commonwealth Club and other national and international venues on behalf of vanilla farmers.

I launched The International Tropical Farmers Network, a Google group connecting farmers, scientists and social scientists worldwide to support one another and to provide information and  resources. I helped to organize a vanilla conference in Mexico in 2006 where all  farmers could attend as it was free.  Over 2500 people came to the conference!  Unfortunately, I was unable to attend as I was in aggressive chemotherapy and the trip would have been too difficult.

We raised the funds to help rebuild a hurricane-damaged school for the children of vanilla producers in a village in rural Mexico.  We connected the dots, so to speak, to get vanilla and cacao vines from a farmer in Costa Rica, to a school in northwestern Haiti.  I sponsored a farmer from Kenya for a year’s apprenticeship in Hawaii.

These were some of the highlights.   There are always many roadblocks in running a business, though they usually aren’t quite as intense as some of the ones we’ve experienced.  We traveled the “Madagascar road:” unpaved, craters for potholes, unexpected dead-ends, and numerous collisions along the way.

I had realized early on that the best way to grow my business would be to create value-added products.  The money to bring these products to market was diverted for  the overwhelming costs associated with a life-threatening illness.  For the last year I have worked full time in an organic community market in addition to running the business.  The Great Recession and lack of funds to grow the business have definitely been a deterrent to our company’s well-being.

Yet ten years on, here we are!  Gina manages the day-day details.  On my days off from the market I do the writing for the site and blogs, make sales calls and whatever else I can to keep us afloat.  Kathy continues to help us with updates and upgrades to our site.

I am currently working to help three women from Africa to come to the Women Leaders for the World training, and we are raising money for supplies for the refugees in the Horn of Africa.

There are many miracles needed for tropical farmers and their environment as both are heavily impacted by climate change, poor wages and political upheaval and unrest.

As individuals who care, it can feel overwhelming.  Yet if each of us donated one dollar a week — or even a month — toward assisting those in need, whether with the basics such as food, shelter and medicine, or the opportunity of  an  education, all of us benefit.

Miracles come in many different forms.  I believe that each of us has the capacity to create miracles for ourselves,  for others and for our beautiful planet.  I am looking forward to another decade filled with miracles.  Please join us to make it happen!

There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.     Albert Einstein

Note:  If you enjoy my blog, could you please vote for me at the Culinary Hall of Fame?  While you’re there, check out what Chef David and his wife, Pam Nelson are doing for culinary students.  They’re awesome!

Trains sat idle on the tracks heading toward Naples; nothing coming south.  Turns out a strike was called at the next station to the north and everything had ground to a halt.  While it might be possible to catch a cab to the next station, there was the distinct possibility there would be a rolling strike.  This was not good news as we needed to make a train in Rome at noon and the ferry before 8:00.

We quickly discovered there was an airport bus heading to Naples.  Where there’s an airport, there’s bound to be a cab to get us to the train.  There was room for us on the lovely, first-class bus, so instead of riding on the aging Metro, we toured the Coast in an air-conditioned coach.  Even better, our bus stopped 10 feet from a bus to the airport so we made it with time to spare.  We transferred in Rome and spent the afternoon relaxing as we rolled through mostly rural Southern Italy.

There are two ways to go from Italy to Athens; by plane or by ferry and bus.  As we had Eur-rail passes, we qualified for a discount on the ferry.  While it took longer, it was an adventure to travel   through the Adriatic.

The literature touted a disco-bar on the ferry, spacious cabins and fine dining.  As it turns out, our ferry had no disco and the cabins were snug.  There were a fair number of choices in the cafeteria style dining room.  While it hardly qualified as fine dining, the portions were large enough to feed hard-working young stevedores.  But after spending most of the day on trains and buses, we didn’t care.  We were happy for a warm meal and a bed.

The next morning we watched as island after island appeared, some  inhabited, some empty and some hardly more than an uplift jutting from the sea.  The sun shone early, but as our trip continued, the skies filled with clouds.  By the time we arrived in Patras around 1:00, it was threatening to rain.  Of course, it never rains in Greece in late May as it’s a Mediterranean country.

We caught our bus and settled in for our ride, traveling through mist, then drizzle, then rain, then a torrent.  It was unclear how long we would be on the bus from Patras to Athens.  Even if we had been given an itinerary, time tends to be elastic on the road.

After roughly three hours we came to a roadside stop that served Greek fast food.  We were there a half-hour and, as we had no idea when we’d arrive in Athens, we ate.  Twenty minutes later, we were there. And, the rain had stopped.

The view from each of the windows of our modern hotel looked out on the Acropolis.  In Greek, Acropolis means “the sacred rock” and “high city.”  The magnificent ruins were  constructed as both a fortified citadel and as a sanctuary.  First built during the Bronze Age, this remarkable site became the first temple of Athena Polias in the 8th century BC.  At night, spotlights shine on the ancient marble ruins, which are now being painstakingly rebuilt with archeologists overseeing the work.  There is a rooftop garden at our hotel where you can sit out in the evening and watch Athen’s lights come on and gaze at this most remarkable structure rising over the now sprawling capital of more than four million inhabitants.

We were ready for a real meal.  We walked a few blocks to a lovely outdoor/indoor restaurant with a domed church across the walkway and shade trees all around.  We settled in to our table under a canopy when a full-on thunderstorm burst forth.

In a few minutes it was clear that this wasn’t going to work, so we moved indoors.  This was a good move as there was live music complete with  a woman who played a drum and sang Greek  songs, old and new.

The food was excellent and we felt thoroughly welcomed, first by Zeus and his pantheon of gods, and second, by the very warm treatment we received at the hotel and restaurant.  The gods continued the storms throughout the night and the Acropolis was repeatedly back lit by lightning.  A dramatic introduction to Greece.

We left early the next morning for Naxos, but it’s easier to first write about our time in Athens and then about Naxos.

The most popular and historical neighbourhoods of Athens are located in the city center:  Syntagma, Plaka, Monastiraki, Acropolis, Thissio and Gazi.  It’s easy to walk as the neighborhoods run together, with narrow, winding streets, a plethora of shops, tavernas, bakeries, small groceries, funky tourist stores and tony boutiques, with the sights changing street-by-street.

We spent a warm morning at the Acropolis, hiking up from the Plaka.  The view from the top is exceptional; as the city is largely flat, you can see for miles.  I was impressed by the number of trees and green belts throughout the city and some of the architecture is quite interesting.

There are intriguing ruins everywhere.  Like Rome, the excavations are frequently one or ,more stories below street level.  Unlike Rome, there are few markers except for the larger sites.

The Acropolis is absolutely a must-see though the earlier you go the better as it was packed even though we left around 8:00 am.  Only a f ew years ago it was free and was open until 9:00 or so.  With the massive reconstruction underway as well as financial austerity measures, there is a fee and the Acropolis closes at 2:30 or 3:00 in the afternoon.

We discovered the hard way that most of the parks and sites containing ruins, such as Hadrian’s Library and the Temple of Hercules, also close early.  Regardless, nearly everything is out in the open and we were at least able to walk around the perimeters.

The museums were also closed when we were there, but there is so much to see in the historical neighborhoods, that we were busy from early until late.

We had a so-so meal in a little cafe — the food was so heavily salted we could barely eat it — but I had one of my favorites: gigante beans in tomato sauce, a classic Greek dish even though the beans originated in Guatemala (they’re a relative of the lima!).

We then discovered an excellent natural foods store, which became our go-to spot for healthy food.  We also found a great bakery in near Syntagma Square, with too many fabulous things to choose from.  I tried some desserts I had never before eaten so I don’t have recipes for them.  However, here’s my favorite  recipe for Karidopita, or Greek Walnut Cake. We brought our spoils back to the hotel and dined on our roof-top perch.

It was interesting to note the crossover of Greek and Italian food.  I suspect this has been going on forever, but I was amused to see so many Italian delicacies — gelato being one — in Greece.   A greater use of cucumbers and eggplant in Greece and also lemon juice in vinaigrettes instead of red wine or balsamic vinegar.  I had also assumed that our dessert choices would be baklava and other phyllo-based desserts, but there were wonderful chocolate and cream desserts at our favorite bakery.

 Syntagma Square was filled with white tents, the temporary home of hundreds of protesters.  There was a police presence throughout the Plaka and Syntagma but we didn’t see any violence while we were there.

While the Greeks were hurting for business and distressed about the financial situation they’re faced with, we were truly impressed by the care and warmth we experienced from everyone there.  And although we were told by several people back home to spend as little time in Athens as possible, I would have enjoyed at least two more days there to experience more of what this ancient city has to offer.  However, Naxos was a treasure and more than made up for city life.  We’ll go there next.

Did you know that five dollars will feed a Somali for two weeks? That there are reliable organizations that donate 100% of their money directly to the people?  Here’s a simple way that you can be a philanthropist and make a huge difference!

Unless you’ve been on holiday for the last two months and haven’t seen a paper or TV, you already know that the worst drought in 60 years is forcing thousands of desperate people to walk long distances from rural villages to refugee camps or big  cities  in a frantic search for food and water.  Over 11 million people in Somalia alone are in need of immediate help.  Ethiopia, Eritrea, Djbouti, Kenya and Northern Uganda are also faced with starvation as rains haven’t arrived for over two years.

This is not an easy time anywhere in the world, but those of us in industrialized countries at least have resources for food and water.  Our brothers and sisters in the Horn of Africa not only have no resources, they are also facing the ravages of a failed state-turned violent in Somalia, and ineffective, corrupt governments in most of the other countries.

It’s easy to be caught in our own stories.  We’re busy, we’re stressed, we’re worried about work, our families, ourselves.  Many of us would like to help but we’re living on a tight budget.  Others of us would happily donate if we know that our money will actually reach the people in need.

There are a number of agencies that I feel are very reliable and where help is arriving.  One is the International Rescue Committee and another is the UN Human Rights Commission

However, there are smaller, grassroots organizations where no one takes a salary and 100% of your donations go directly to food, supplies, tents and medical care.  The African Future is a group of Canadian Somalis who are working directly with people in Somalia. They are in partnership with Somalis in the United States and are together collecting donations for refugees. My friend Ubax Gardheere is a member of the Seattle Somali community and working with The African Future.  Send $5.00 to feed a Somali child for two weeks!  That’s less than a sandwich and a soda!

Hope Without Borders was started in 2005 by friends Lance and Julie Parve.  Lance is a civil engineer and member of Engineers Without Borders.  Julie is a nurse practitioner working in clinics with Somali Refugees in Wisconsin.  In the 1980s they volunteered for two years at a hospital in Somalia and have remained committed to providing training and assistance in creating sustainable projects in Eastern Africa, especially in Somalia and Kenya.  They underwrite all of the work they do and all donations go directly for medical supplies, tools, equipment and other needs.  Currently they are raising funds for tents, medicines and other urgently needed supplies for refugee camps.

We’re all riding on this small space ship together.  What happens across the world from us affects us as well.  Whether you can afford $5.00 or $5,000, you may be saving the life of a future doctor, scientist, social worker, teacher or world leader.   If you have been reluctant to send money to an organization over concern that it will be used appropriately, you now have the connection to four groups where your money will be wisely applied.  Again, it’s theafricanfuture.org  or hwb-usa.org  in case you didn’t click through on the earlier links.

Thank you for reading this and for your support to our African brothers and sisters!

We traveled by train to Naples then took the local Metro for another hour to Sorrento.  The Metro train was packed for the first twenty minutes, and we balanced our luggage with our legs while standing.  Slowly it  emptied out and we could see Mount Vesuvius and the signs to Herculaneum and Pompeii out the smudged windows.  We didn’t have time to visit either village, but it was interesting to see the infamous volcano and the lush landscape surrounding it.

It was warm and humid, again feeling as if it might rain, when we arrived at the Ulisse Deluxe Hostel where we  stayed for two nights.  This was not what most of us think of as a hostel,  but rather, a hotel with hostel prices.  It’s connected with a spa but we quickly learned that massages were booked out a week or more in advance by the droves of visitors who come to Sorrento for a month or two to escape the dreary English weather.

Our taxi driver from the train to the hostel attempted to talk us into a  drive along the Amalfi Coast in a Mercedes.  Fortunately, at the hostel we learned about a cruise along the coast, which happened to be scheduled for the next morning (it goes twice a week to Amalfi and Positano and once or twice a week to Capri).  We opted for the cruise, a much better choice as the road along the Coast is narrow, winding and treacherous in spots.  While there are buses that also travel along the Coast, we were told that  it’s a long and not very comfortable trip.

Sorrento is larger than it first appears.  It’s a hill town overlooking the Bay of Naples and is home to about 17,000 locals.  It’s also a major tourist destination, and the main part of town is  designed for visitors who come for an extended holiday.  Lots of boutiques, department stores, restaurants and other shops that cater to tourists.  However, if you go even one or two blocks off the main drag, you’ll find the town where locals live, work and shop.

We chose a funky looking gelateria/trattoria, which at first glance, appeared to be an Italian version of an ice cream parlor/cafeteria.  (An Italian Howard Johnson’s came to mind.)  In fact, the food was excellent and we returned the following night.  As it turns out, it is a family run business that has  provided gelato for the Vatican for decades. Where else could we go but to a place famous for its gelato!

The cruise was a treat.  We left around 9:30 and returned a little after 5:00, so most of the day was spent traveling the coast and exploring the towns of Amalfi and Positano.

It has been a dream of mine to visit Positano for many, many years.  When I was 23, a 50-year-old neighbor became my second culinary mentor (my mother being the first).  He had lived in Positano in the 1950s with his lover who was writing an art history book .  He was a very good cook and opened my eyes to Mediterranean cuisine.

First, he had me throw out the sour cream which, in the early 1960s was a part of American “gourmet” cooking, and to replace it with olive oil.  He taught me about other types of olives than the innocuous black orbs  in cans, and introduced me to my first vanilla beans and how to use them.

He said that he and I should go to Positano and rent a villa on the hillside, with a great room for cooking and dining and suites on either side where we could entertain our lovers.  (I should  mention that my friend was gay, so he was not attempting to lure me away as his trophy wife.)

It was a delightful fantasy that never came to fruition.  We ultimately lost touch and I am sure he is long dead, but I wanted to visit the town of his dreams in his honor.  When sharing this story with my traveling companions, we fell into the “what if” fantasy.  I said that we probably would have started a cooking school in Positano and would have been well-received by guests from around the world.  Perhaps I would have met a successful — or famous — Italian man and now be a nonna to a passel of grandchildren.

The Amalfi Coast is a favorite of the rich-and-famous.  Anna Magnani and Berto Rossolini had a villa for a while in Furore and members of the international jet set are often spotted wining and dining in the gorgeous towns overlooking the sea.  In fact, roughly 400,000 people visit the Coast yearly, though it was not overrun with tourists while we were there.

In Amalfi we had a simple but very satisfying local dish in a little cafe — thick, crusty bread drizzled with olive oil and toasted, with cannellini beans, chopped tomatoes, basil, garlic and more olive oil.  Super easy to make; super satisfying to eat.  If you drink, have it with a crisp white Italian wine.

The mainstays of Neapolitan food are tomatoes, lemons, fresh vegetables, red peppers and olives.  Seafood is obviously a part of the cuisine, but fishing as an industry is relatively small as tourism has largely replaced it.  Bufala mozzarella (made from water buffalo and incredibly good) is one of the primary cheeses.

The region is quite famous for its distinctive lemons that have been grown around Sorrento since the 1st century and along the Amalfi Coast since the early the 11th century.  Some of the lemons weigh as much as two kilos!  In 1992 the lemons were given “Indication of Geographic Protection” under the European Union agricultural destination program, and the production and distribution are strictly controlled.

Sorrento lemons are the “secret” for the best limoncello.  Unfortunately, I didn’t know this at the time or I would have purchased some while I was there.  While I’m not wild about drinking it, limoncello is part of a famous regional dessert.  Which brings us to the Delizie al Limone that I had been eying in the restaurant the first night in Sorrento and purchased at a beautiful family bakery in Amalfi.  More about that in a moment.

First, the Cathedral of St. Andrew.  The church fills St. Andrew’s Square in the center of town with it’s beautiful Arabic influenced stone work and arches.  It contains the relics of St. Andrew in a crypt.  As Sandra and I were touring the church, one of the church caretakers opened a small door in a cabinet as Sandra came through.  She wasn’t prepared to see St. Andrew’s skull inside and let out an startled gasp; the caretaker was quite offended. We struggled to restrain ourselves from a bout of hysterical laughter.

Along with the endless bottles of limoncello and other lemon-related gifts, we were amused by the rastras of red peppers being sold in the small shops catering to the tourists.  Although you can’t read the sign, it says,”Viagra Naturale.”

As we were walking down a side street I spotted a lovely looking pastry shop.  In my peculiar Spanish-Italian “dialect” I asked about the desserts.  The owner was so pleased that I was interested in his shop that he opened the pastry cases so that I could take unobstructed photos.  And it was here that I purchased the Delizie al Limone that was so good I could have wept!  

The Delizie al Limone is the next to last dessert on the lower right.  It’s yellow with a topping of whipped cream.

Here’s  a recipe I located on the Internet for this exceptional dessert that I translated from Italian.  I plan to make Limoncello with my abundant supply of Meyer lemons and once it’s ready, I’ll make this dessert. The topping isn’t quite the same, but it will be delicious nevertheless.

Positano is an artist’s enclave and, as Rick Steeves says, it has “sold out” to the tourist trade.  Nevertheless, it is charming and has some outstanding artwork in the galleries as well as high-end boutique clothing.  Standing in a courtyard overlooking the water, I could easily imagine my friend’s memories of this town when it was not yet so heavily visited and I wondered what would have been my fate had I chosen to move there with him in 1967.

We sailed back to Sorrento just ahead of a thunderstorm that washed the narrow town streets clean and left the air fresh with the scent of lemon blossoms.  Lovely memories of a special place.