Meringue Kisses with Ice Cream and Chocolate Sauce

One of the first signs I might be getting older is that I’m no longer the same person I was. I’ve lost some of the resistance I used to pride myself on—not the party-kind resistance, as I was never one for late nights, dancing in high heels until dawn, or going out every evening. If anything, I seem to be getting better at that with age.

The real change is in how long I can work without a break. I now crave carefree weekends and need to unplug after dinner. If I don’t carve out time for something that isn’t “work,” I dry up. A few years ago I worked a standard office day in marketing and communications, then came home, donned my apron and began a second life of writing, cooking and staying up late. Those nights could stretch past midnight.

Today I wear the apron most of the day, writing about products that excite me and creating recipes I grow fonder of with each attempt, but I still need regular breaks.

Creative work needs time. Pressure is part of the process, but when passion becomes an assembly line, it’s time to step back. When I take that step, I usually choose between two activities that recharge me. Sometimes I do both to be certain I return to work full of new energy and smiles.

First, I need to move. I do something that doesn’t require thinking: I walk Noa briskly, with loud music in my ears, while fields fly by under the sun or in the wind. With heat waves, that walk has to wait until late afternoon, otherwise it’s too much. If I need clarity and I’m not going for a walk, I clean my house. It may sound like a stereotype, but tidying works.

When everything is in its place—dishes rinsed, clothes ironed, books and bags sorted—I can finally think. The next step, when I’m about to burst, is to rearrange my props: plates, cups, cutlery, fabrics and backgrounds. Reorganizing the attic where I keep props makes me start again from scratch. After a few hours of tidying, I often create new photos with a renewed awareness and harmony.

The other way I recharge is to return to cooking. I know it’s predictable, but cooking remains my favorite stress-relief. Not complicated dishes—basic recipes every good home cook should know. I have a mental checklist of recipes I want to master so thoroughly that I could make them almost with my eyes closed. Someday, decades from now, these will be the tried-and-true dishes I’ll pass on with pride, or serve confidently to family and friends.

I’m still learning, but classics like arista (roast pork loin), peposo (black peppercorn beef stew), latte alla portoghese, and fresh pasta are already part of my repertoire. After many attempts and dramatic failures, I’ve finally nailed them and I’m proud.

Meringues are another preparation I now make perfectly—a little ego boost is allowed—thanks to a pastry class I took a few years ago. I’ve made them small, large and shaped like nests; the result always follows the book. My grandmother loves sweets, so I bake them in large batches and give her a big bag each time. For her, nothing is ever too sweet; I leave a tiny soft pocket inside the meringues just as she prefers, and she can’t get enough.

So when I had to choose a third recipe for Sammontana, I didn’t hesitate: meringues. I paired them two by two like sweet kisses, added a scoop of yogurt ice cream to balance the sweetness and a touch of dark chocolate for a contrasting color and flavor.

These meringue kisses disappear fast—like cherries.