Sounds like a delicious audit trail, a culinary weekbook. Here’s a rough map: Monday start with a tomato‑salsa omelette, remember the first day I tasted a fresh salsa in a tiny Oaxaca stall, the salt on my tongue still feels like a promise. Tuesday, a lentil dal for lunch, which whispers of my grandfather’s Sunday stew, the slow fire and the laugh that echoed when a spoon slipped. Wednesday, think grilled fish with lime, the smell of briny sea that hit when I walked home from my first surf lesson; the tang of lime still clings to my memory of the sea’s gulls. Thursday, a pasta night with a garlic‑olive oil sauce, conjures the cramped kitchen of my aunt’s house, the garlic cloves clinking in a tin, the scent of basil that made us all forget time. Friday, roast chicken, the crackling skin reminds me of the summer harvest in my cousin’s barn, the chickens clucking like a choir, the smell of wood smoke that lingers in the air even now. Saturday, a mango‑salsa salad, the first time I tasted a ripe mango, the fruit’s sweetness a flash of summer, the mango tree’s leaves whispering like an old lullaby. Sunday, end with a pot of tea, the black tea steeping like a slow sunrise, a memory of my grandmother’s ritual, the kettle hissing, the quiet comfort of a shared moment. Each dish is a bookmark, a snippet of a story that keeps our taste buds and memories dancing together.

Sounds solid, and I love the prep day idea—salsa and mango ahead of time is a lifesaver. Just a gentle heads‑up: the best tomatoes are still at room temperature when you slice them, because refrigeration dulls their flavor and texture. I’ll keep an eye on that so your week’s menu stays as fresh as the memories you’re weaving. Happy cooking, and may the kitchen stay free of those fridge‑aged tomatoes!