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“Are you sure that this is what you want to make as first course for Passover dinner?” asked my better half, with a look that makes you wonder if it wasn’t better to stay in bed that morning and play sick. “I thought that this might be an excellent first course” I answered trying to sound convincing. “Actually, I’m sure it will make an excellent first course, excellent and delicious” she added, “but preparing 25 personal dishes? The kind you have to make to order so they come out right??”
“Half or full?” asked Jacob. “Full” I answered, “I’d finish half before I get home”. Naturally, he didn’t have to ask which cake. Weiss’ Bakery’s legendary poppy-seed cake was the ultimate Saturday treat. For me, where Saturday was not Saturday without at least two different cakes at home, Weiss’ poppy seed cake was an adequate substitute for moms’ cakes.
“What do you plan on cooking for the young one’s birthday?” asked my better half, “I haven’t really thought about it”. I answered ,“maybe finger food?” “sounds good” she said “I’m sure it will be finger licking good”. The expression on the birthday boy face that was sitting by the table changed from joy to light concern.
For many years, the relationship between me and eggplants was to simply ignore each other. It was invisible to me. I’d pass an eggplant’s stall at the farmer’s market and wouldn’t even notice it. When someone would make an eggplant dish i’d ignore it as if it didn’t exist.
“What is this flavor in the chicken?” my mom asked, still trying to identify it herself. “Is it tasty?” I answered her question with a question, “yes, but I can’t tell what is it”. “Silan” I said, “you add silan to chicken?” “yes, and soy sauce too”.
The first time I had ever heard about banana bread was from an American friend in Paris way back in the ‘80s. The combination of bread and bananas sounded pretty weird. You put bananas on bread? What’s next, orange bread? “You’ve never had banana bread?” my friend asked in astonishment, looking at me as if I had a deprived childhood.
“What cookies will you make this time?” my younger son asked when the cookie jar was almost empty. “I think I’ll make tahini cookies”. There was no mistake in his expression, “Tahini??” “yes” I answered, “you like Halva, right?” “yes” he said “well, tahini and halva are made out of the same ingredient, sesame”. “Ok” he answered and went to his room. What this “ok” really meant was something along the lines of: ugh, another one of my dad’s non-edible kitchen improvisations…