Just got back from brunch with some of my 'older' comrades, whose ranks I will be joining soon. We reminisced about work, as we all worked or work together, and recalled fond food memories. So much of my past is linked to food memories. My grandmother on my mother's side was a phenomenal cook. She was born in Leeds, England, en route to the US from somewhere in what is now Russia. My mom hated her mother's cooking as it was too pedestrian and too old world. Me, I loved it. Comfort food to the maximum. Mom used to make weird things that no one liked but her, but grandma Dorothy would make us food that went down easy and comforted. Mom liked stuffed veal breast, which was greasy beyond words, and calf liver with onion which no matter how much ketchup I used still tasted like crap. Dorothy made food the rest of the family loved. We lived with an extended family, first with my great grandmother Dora and after her death my Uncle Mack moved it. So even being an only child I was surrounded by family. I loved Dorothy with all my heart and whenever I wanted something special I would call her grandma, so she would know I wanted something. But because her mother-in-law lived with us and I was told to call her grandma Dora, Dorothy became Dorothy, unless I wanted her to make me some fried matzo or a special lemon meringue pie., then she was addressed as grandma. My mother insisted on not being referred to as Ma, as, again, too old world. She had to be called mother. But both grandmas could be referred to as such.
Anyway, we had a nice brunch and I received some nice birthday gifts from my pals. Janet, Lil, and Kathie. There used to be more friends but for some reason we had a few falling out. So this are my three good buddies, who I would go to the ends of the earth for. Tomorrow I will return to the scene of the crime and have brunch again with another group of work friends. And then, because it will be Sunday, I will hit the farmers market. And even though it is really too early for much fresh produce, it is my Sunday habit to go there. I am hoping for some early cherry tomatoes and maybe some spring veggies like leeks. Weather is supposed to be nice, I am so obstinate about having the windows open in the spring and summer that is got down to 64 degree in the condo. Hasn't warmed up much but it is getting warmer. I have removed the sweatshirt, but shorts are standard wear regardless of the temperature in just spring, when the world is mud luscious and puddle wonderful, according to e e cummings. And the little lame balloon man whistles far and wee away. I may be that balloon man. And it may not be mud luscious right now but it is still just spring.
Baseball, which is my life and passion is soon coming on TV and that is nap time during the first game. The later games I actually watch but the early game is designated nap time. A habit I picked up from my dad. So much has passed and so many have as well. Makes me sad to think about some friends I once had who no longer will acknowledge me for some bizarre reasons that I won't go into right now. But the pre-game is coming on and in spite of having had three cups of coffee at lunch I am headed towards the couch for a nap with Yankel, who is my usual nap buddy during the day. At night, especially if it is cold in the condo, I have a three cat night.
Well, Yankel is to my right on the arm of the chair so it it time to move one seat over.
Later,
Pookie, aka the Czarina.
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