When I was little, we spent a lot of time at my Nana Cynthia’s house, and she involved us in making many delicious things.  Several of my favourite recipes have come from her.  Whether eating or hanging out, the kitchen was the centre of the home and definitely her domain – most of my memories of her are in her kitchen, a lit cigarette ((Always Player’s Plain!)) in one hand, and a glass of Papa’s home-made, sweet red wine in the other, telling me stories about her life as a teenager in and near London during WWII.   She died a couple of years ago, and my mom has been…