I spent a couple of summers when I was young in Knowlton, Quebec, where my Auntie Magda had a summer home she ran as an unofficial sleepaway camp for all of the cousins. Our carefree days were spent horseback riding, face painting, running about in the yard, and, of course, eating. Auntie Madga was a fantastic cook who put a touch of Polish in every dish. Her daughter, Maïa, two years my elder, likely inspired by her mum, was a passionate young baker. Maïa spent most of her mornings in the kitchen, baking something delicious so that we could all have treats after lunch. That first summer at “cousins’ camp,” she was obsessed with lemon squares. Brand-new to me, they were sweet and tangy, bright and cookie-like, and I ate them with abandon. But what also struck me was the idea that cooking is not necessarily a chore that somebody else does for you while you’re playing outside. If you love cooking, it’s fun. Today, whenever I make these lemon bars, which are a slight riff on Maïa’s original, I think back to that time that helped shape both my palate and my life path.