Bait & Hook

9. Opening Up

I watched a delightful expression grow on Roxy's face while I savoured a sip of wine. So expressive. So intriguing. So beautiful.

Then at my mention of relationship, it clouded. Triggering? Likely. Best I not mention it again. That and anything about her – her what? What's the term? Late seems an inept qualifier. But what? Deceased? Departed? Whatever, I need to keep away from that.

A flood of memories filled my mind as I took my next bite, the flavours sweeping me back to that magical evening when we first had this. Then my thoughts drifted to Gillian and all we had shared, and I found myself wallowing. Again.

Enough grieving. Focus on here and now – and on the food and the wine until it's safe to venture elsewhere. "Very ambitious of you to attempt to replicate this dish, Roxy. Its complexity demands a depth and breadth of both skill and experience. Where have you trained?"

She shrugged. "A few night school and weekend classes and watching the cooking shows. But my inspiration and fundamentals come from Mamá."

"Oh, she's a chef?"

"She had been before we left Peru, and she always reminds me that Peruano cuisine was the inspiration of what we call Northwest cuisine here. It's fusion of Incan, Asian, African and European predates by many generations the recent invention here." She paused and did air quotes. "Not to disparage what has happened here, but fusion's origin in Peru is usually forgotten – or ignored. It goes far beyond the ubiquitous Chifa."

I nodded as another flood of memories swept through me. Do I share this? Yes, it's about my bereavement, not hers. "We found superb dining throughout Peru, and Gillian wrote a few columns and articles tracing the evolution of the cuisine there, linking it to the origins of Northwest cuisine."

"Throughout Peru? You had mentioned earlier visiting the Inca sites. How long were you there?"

"Our longest visit was seven months, though we flew home in the middle of that for several weeks of the northern summer."

"I don't follow. Seven months but not."

I chuckled. "Sailing. We had sailed from the Galapagos to Paita in northern Peru, then south to Lima, where we moored the boat in La Punta while we flew back to Vancouver to handle a few business details too difficult to be done from afar."

As I paused to enjoy another bite, she asked, "You sailed there? From here?"

"We did. It was part of our three-year circumnavigation of South America – not the standard boring sea voyage, though. We port-hopped, spending much of our time exploring inland. We made another excursion into southern Peru from Iquique, Chile, visiting Arequipa and Titicaca, exploring other Inca sites, as well as those of the Tiwanaku and the Nazca."

"Oh, Dios mío! My dream destinations. My bucket list."

There's that wondrous expression again. Safe to continue this.