Sailing between the Greek islands as I turned twenty, Hydra to Rhodes and Rhodes to Crete and Crete to Santorini, the pearls my grandparents had given me, one by one every year, the strand of au lait-colored cultured pearls, breaking and spilling down the rough-weave dress I’d bought myself in Athens, in the Plaka, spilling all across the shipboard floor. Sailing the Aegean at twenty and drinking apricot sours on deck—delighted equally by both.
Somehow the pleasure isn’t quite the same today...though I did find a jar of maraschino cherries in the fridge, hiding behind the harissa. (Is that what's known as eclectic tastes?)
image: apricot sour, taylor takes a taste