In honouring Women’s History Month, I have chosen a woman I never had the chance to meet. Her images have always captivated me and grace the walls of my home, and I have heard countless stories of her from my dad and his siblings.

“In many ways food and wine are art, evoking feelings and emotions which create memories and give you a sense of place. Thanks to the Ceretto family, cultural points of interest now dot the landscape, with the installation of iconic pieces of art.”

The joy of exploring new places in good company is my idea of a good time: winding country roads where you come to a crossroads and take in the lay of the land before deciding which way to go, sometimes on a whim and sometimes with intent. The region of Piemonte in the northwest corner of Italy is the perfect place for a wanderer, and one of my favourite pastimes over the past few years is finding Big Benches. 

My mom and dad emigrated from The Philippines to the United States in the late 1960s to work as as chemists/researchers at the University of California, San Diego. A few years later, I was born in La Jolla, California. I’ve been fortunate to travel to my parents’ native land with them three times, and on our last visit, we were treated to a cultural experience that had a deep impact on me. Re-watching a video of the event recently has brought up some strong memories and feelings about my ethnic patrimony.

In general, we all belong to more than one community. Yes, families are the starting point, but then, as we expand our personalities and interests, we join different ones that share common passions such as sports, hobbies, or a deep affection for one another. Undoubtedly, what creates the strongest and longest-lasting link is friendship.

Many other communities and movements around the world have helped people to connect, to share common ideas, and to not feel alone. Think about how all achievements, technology, science, medicine, literature, religion, politics, and other important things would not be possible if it was not for that simple ability to communicate, think, and work together. One is nothing without the community, and the community is nothing without the one.

Here in the Basque country, the sense of community is very strong. We say we do things in the auzolan way. It doesn't have an exact translation, but it kind of means that everybody who can help in the community, does. We construct houses, clean the forest, fix the church’s ceiling or take care of our elderly in the auzolan way. You volunteer to do whatever you do best.

Margaret Reid Farmer, my Granny,  was born on 26 October 1875 in Lochee, Dundee. Her mother registered the birth and “signed” with an “X” her mark. 

“Several of us members of GC have shared some photos and tidbits about special women in our lives—women who have influenced us, guided us, helped us to evolve into the people we are to they. And to them, we say, ‘Thank you for being you and for all that you do!’”

Here in Spain, getting your driver’s licencse is a big deal. One of the things that shocks foreigners is that we have to wait until we are 18 years old, and you are not allowed to practice at all before that day.

The moment I set a foot in that magical place, I realized what she meant. I was Basque, I was home. That smoky smell, the music, the long family-style tables, the Pelota Fronton (pelota court), the wrinkled faces of those old men playing cards (mus, a Basque card game, to be exact) reminded me of my grandpa. It didn't just look like home, it felt like home, it was home. I still get goosebumps when I think about it.

Maybe it’s the climate with long, cold, dark nights. Maybe it’s just the psyche of the people. Whatever the reason, we Scots are never slow to turn a celebration into a party. The winter months in Scotland are scattered with festivities—Halloween, Guy Fawkes (or Bonfire) Night, St Andrew’s Day, Burns Night, not to mention Christmas! But when it comes to celebrations, aboon them a’ (above them all), is Hogmanay.

It is that time of year again when the garden is full of tomatoes and it is time to make la conserva, the base for most of our tomato sauces that we learned from Mauro’s parents. It is truly a labour of love. We enjoy good food and knowing what is in our food. In this case, it takes some hard work.

There’s something so evocative to me about pictures of food and the power they have to vividly remind me of mouth-watering meals and moments that I’ve had on my travels.  I can look at my culinary photos and remember exactly where I was, the scent of the dish just placed in front of me, and the way the flavors open up on my pallet.