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One of the chalanges of moving to another country is the longing for home cooking. Living here in Canada, I've never found that same flavour and I knew I wouldn't find anything that compared to what I ate at my aunts' house and at my grandma's. After a long search for something similar, I gave up. Nothing came close to the delights I grew up with.


I decided to take a risk. I knew I would never truly recreate the taste I remembered but I started. I'm not much of a cook, but I longed for the flavours from my childhood.  After moving from Brazil I had to quench my senses and calm my soul with the tastes that populate my memories and that make my life richer.

Munira, nicknamed Muna, my aunt - my father's sister. She had a radiant personality that impacted everyone around her.  On Sundays, she cooked for the whole big, really big family.  It was memorable. It was the best part of childhood - playing with the cousins and eating her food. The stuffed  grape leaves, my favorite. Pure Passion.


Carolina, nicknamed Lina, my grandmother - mother of my mother. The Matriarch. Strong. Unique. She was more about making handmade rugs (big and incredible) than about cooking, but it left an impression on anyone who tried her dishes. The Christmas couscous, the cooked polenta, the mayonnaise salad, the stracciatella still echo in my mind, tattooed on my soul. What I experienced with my grandmother is here, sustaining me.


I created MunaLina to continue being happy living so far away, so distant. To feel closer. It's the memories of what I lived and the love we shared that I infuse in these few dishes that I make. I offer you an important part of me.

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