There are those days that Murphy comes to visit you. Those days where anything that can go wrong, goes wrong. It’s not about major crises, it’s just that everything you planned goes the wrong way. It was supposed to be a state of the art planned and productive day. And then, FedEx delivers the wrong package...
"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??”
“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 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.