The story of a sister
and a recipe for Lucia's krack bars
To everyone new here, welcome. I’m Elizabeth, the writer of The Delicious Bits Dispatch, a weekly missive for the curious, blending discovery, reflection, and musings, always wrapped up with a seasonal recipe worth lingering over.
You’ll forgive me for a longer post today. These are musings of the most personal kind.
At 7 pm on Saturday night I had just about finished my weekly post. It was a love letter to my sister Lucia, who we lost two years ago on January 10. I thought I would share the words I offered at her celebration of life, to tell of her light and beauty to those who didn’t know her, and especially to remind those who did.
But as I reread the post, I realised that I wanted to tell a more personal story. Not the chronology of her life…an early first marriage that gave her a beloved son and a grandchild that was her heart…a career in travel…her life in the United States with my brother-in-law…frequent trips to her happy places…her love of true crime stories…but my more personal portrait.
Highlights of a life well-lived, my scattershot memories from my baby-sister perspective, recollections, and most of all photos that tell the story of my eldest sister, who was the best of the three of us.
Tracing the threads of Lucia’s life begins with her origin story: the firstborn of immigrant parents.
My mother had health complications when Lucia was born. In the way of old family histories, the problems are shrouded in mystery for us; faded medical records are spare and the only thing that is clear was that, a few months after Lucia was born, my mother was bedridden in hospital for nearly a year.
While the facts are hazy, the black and white photos from that time illuminate the tale. As I look at the picture of my mother in the hospital, I think about her likely fear and confusion, speaking no English and trying to understand what the future held. I think about her anguish at being apart from her little girl and husband, still a stranger in a strange land. And I try to imagine Lucia’s tender heart bereft of her mother, and the joy that would have been boundless when they were finally together.
Yet, despite or maybe because of those early days, being the firstborn had its own challenges. As the eldest, Lucia navigated the tightrope between our parents’ traditional expectations and her own vibrant personality. Her life was a series of pioneering firsts, setting precedents and breaking rules to forge her path—and ours. She bequeathed us a legacy of boldness and genuineness. As the youngest of three, I know I had the greatest benefit from her hard-won struggles.
Lucia lived her life in full Technicolor.
With an eight-year gap between us, hand-me-downs were rare. Still my admiration of her style shaped my own fashion sensibility. I share Lucia’s love of bright colours and patterns, often worn in unexpected ways.
Perhaps her fashion choices were a rebellion against the uniform of her Catholic school days. The nuns would have certainly raised their eyebrows at her Le Chateau purple leather maxi trench coat (a coat I wish I had still), or the jangle of her long, dangling earrings. Lucia’s style was a statement, a way of reclaiming her identity and expressing her individuality in the most colourful way possible.
Distance didn’t matter—Lucia was always a constant presence in my life.
We three lived most of our adult lives miles apart, Lucia always the furthest away. Yet she was always there for me whenever something was important, just as she was for the rest of our family.
When I finally graduated from university after a late bloomer start, Lucia was there to celebrate my success. She knew full well the value of education hard won, having earned her Master’s degree over the course of many years while working full time as a single mother.
When my mother fell ill, she sacrificed a long-desired move to the West Coast to be close by. That selfless decision changed the trajectory of her life, but with her usual resilience, creativity and imagination, she created a new story for herself.
Lucia loved “junking”, her term for picking up collectibles of all sorts at every opportunity.
Call it estate, tag, garage, sidewalk or rummage…if there was a sale of someone else’s treasures going on, Lucia wanted in on the action…another way the two of us were so very much alike.
When she moved to Summerville, outside Charleston, she parlayed her keen eye and furniture refinishing skills into a sideline hustle called Fab Finds Collection and nothing gave her greater happiness than spending time rescuing beautiful things from the past. Some of my favourite pieces came from Lucia’s hunts—cocktail glasses, champagne coupes, vintage cookbooks, one of her prized teapots, a cake stand, a pretty cream and sugar set—each one still in regular use.
When my sister Paula and I sorted through her Aladdin’s cave after Lucia left us, we found ourselves surrounded not by loss, but by evidence of her joy—each piece a small, lasting reminder of the pleasure she took in finding beauty.
It took many years before I really knew Lucia—after all, I was only 11 when she left home to get married.
Shortly after our father died in 2000 and we were truly orphans, we three sisters agreed that we needed to spend more time together. We decided to plan a ‘sisters’ trip,’ and in 2001 we went to San Diego—beginning what became an almost yearly tradition. Thirteen trips in all…Chicago, New York, Santa Fe, Italy, Iceland, Nova Scotia to name a few destinations.
We covered a lot of ground, saw beautiful things, ate and drank well, laughed a lot, and always always went shoe shopping. But most importantly we got to know one another as adults, and bonded in ways that were precious. More weaving of the ties that bind.
Ray of light
In Italian, Lucia means “light.” Born Lucia Anna, she was known as LouAnne during her early years. When Lucia reclaimed her name as an adult, she truly allowed her inner light to shine, warming everyone around her.
There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about Lucia. It’s not always an explicit thought…it could be the piece of jewelry that I’m drawn to wear, a particularly colourful fashion combination I concoct, hearing an old Motown song. I’m surrounded by things she’s made, that she’s given me, things that belong to her…sparks of presence that fill the absence surrounding them.
Most of all, I think about her laugh—a head back, mouth-wide-open laugh that was distinctive and loud and joyous. If you heard that clarion call, you knew you wanted to be within its radius, catching the golden sparks that flew from Lucia’s being.
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Lucia’s krack bars
makes about 4 dozen
Every Christmas, Lucia baked dozens of her famous “krack” bars—sweet, chewy, and crunchy all at once. They were a beloved family favourite and an enduring seasonal ritual. In a single bite, they captured the essence of Lucia herself: someone who made everything she touched better, richer, and far more delicious.
These bars remain a tender reminder of joyful family time together. Even more, they reflected Lucia’s spirit—warm, generous, and thoughtful. Lucia knew that Richard could easily polish off an entire tin on his own, so she would quietly slip him one just for himself, to tuck away and savour later.
Made from just four simple ingredients, nearly always on hand. To make them especially good, add Lucia’s secret ingredient: loving kindness. It will put them over the top.
NOTE: Graham crackers are usually rectangular in shape, 5” long by 2½”. The quantity called for in the recipe is for 12 5”x2½” rectangles.
Ingredients
2 sticks butter (8 oz)
1½ cup brown sugar (slightly packed)
1½ cups finely chopped walnuts
12 graham cracker rectangles (see note)
Heat oven to 350F.
In a medium saucepan over medium-low heat, combine butter, sugar and walnuts and stir until the butter and sugar have melted. Cool nut mixture for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally until the mixture is smooth.
While nut mixture is cooling, line a 9x12 baking sheet with aluminum foil, ensuring the foil covers the bottom and sides completely. Place whole graham crackers on the sheet in a single layer, arranging them horizontally (with the longer edge parallel to the longer side of the pan). Fit the crackers closely together so they cover the entire surface. If needed, break smaller pieces to fill any gaps along the edges.
Spread the nut mixture on the graham crackers, using an offset spatula, regular spatula or knife. Because the mixture is sticky, be patient. Make sure to reach all the edges of the crackers.
Bake 10 minutes or until the top is bubbling. Watch carefully: the sugar can burn quickly.
Remove the cookie sheet from the oven and let it cool for 5 minutes. Carefully lift the foil with the baked crackers from one side of the cookie sheet and transfer it onto a cutting board or countertop. Using a sharp knife, cut the crackers along the pre-scored lines, first lengthwise and then widthwise. You can cut each cracker into two or four pieces, depending on your preferred size. Since these bars are quite sweet, smaller pieces make a perfect treat!
Let the squares cool completely. Place in airtight container, using wax paper between layers. These can be made ahead and stored in the fridge or frozen for one month.
Elizabeth, what a wonderful tribute to your beautiful sister Lucia. I know the pain of losing someone so dearly loved is really hard. But with your loving touch and creativity you have crafted a wonderful story so that your readers can get to know her and the gifts she gave to you and Paula.
What a beautiful tribute to your sister. She sounds like a truly lovely person. I'm so sorry you had to say goodbye.