I grew up in Greenwich, CT which is really part of the suburbs of NYC. I love that part of the country. There is a hodge podge of cultures there and you get a taste of the rest of the world in the Tri-State area. In my neighborhood there were Italian families, Greek families, Swedish families, Jamaican families, Polish families, Jewish families and at least one Irish/Mexican family, my own (weird combination indeed! However we were too lazy to drink!)
There were all kinds wonderful smells around dinner time that would come from the homes in that neighborhood. My best friend's mom was one of the best cooks that I have ever had the pleasure to know. She was a little Italian woman who could make something out on nothing. Her specialty was braciole . To taste that was to taste the food of God; it was heavenly.
At Greek Easter time, the Demitriadi's would dig a pit in their front yard and roast a lamb over the fire that they would start in that pit. The aroma wafting through the neighborhood drove all of us wild with hunger. Thank God Himself that my mom and Mrs. Demtriadi were good friends. We always got an invite to dinner with roasted lamb, spanakopita, baklava, and other Greek delicacies.
My mom was not one who liked to cook(though she could and was better then she thought), but my father, well now that man could cook! He even had a cast iron pan that was older than God, or so it seemed. That thing was so well seasoned that it was blacker than the devil's heart.
His best meal was Sunday Brunch. Every Sunday, after church we would come home and dad would get to fixin' our meal. There were only four people in my family but he would cook for an army, and usually a friend or five of mine or my brother's would drop by.
The menu would change from time to time but you would always find good bagels(maybe even some bialy's) cream cheese, lox, and sliced onions. There is nothing on this Earth quite like a good bagel and a shmear of cream cheese. I am not talking about the things you get in the supermarkets in plastic bags, or the things that they sell at Panera Bread and call a bagel. I am talking about good Jewish bagels made the right way; boiled in water first then baked. This produces a nice crunchy outside and a soft chewy inside.
I live in the Midwest and I have not been able to find a good bagel, pizza, or deli anywhere. They have things that they call bagels, and pizzas, and delis, but they are the not the real thing, they ain't kosher! (Kosher pizza? Believe me they exist, not so much Jewish pizza as much at it is pizza done right!).
It is amazing how you can take the little things for granted in life, and when they are gone they create a void that is tough to fill. We can live without these things, that is for certain. However, our quality of live is not the same. It changes and is lessened. Other new things come along and may take our attention away from what we miss but the void is still there.
Lest you think that I am just talking about food, I am not. I am talking about people, and places, and events. I know that I have taken people for granted in my life, and when they have gone there is a void and even their idiosyncrasies that once drove me crazy are missed. Why is it that we don't appreciate what we have until it is gone?
I heard of a story of a woman who had wanted a particular dress that her husband thought was too expensive, so she never got it. She would walk by the store where it stood in the window on a mannequin and she would just wish and continue on her way. Her husband knew that his wife really wanted it but it was just not in his budget to get it for her.
Sadly, she passed away not long after that. He was so stricken by her death that he went and bought that dress to have her buried in it. It may sound sweet, but when you really look at it it is sad! She never got the joy of wearing that stupid dress! He bought if for her anyway, so there was money to be found somewhere.
I am not advocating blowing the bank on meaningless things. However, what would have been the harm in getting her that dress while she lived. Maybe they would not have been able to do some of the things that they were accustomed to do, but aren't our loved ones worth the sacrifice? May we appreciate the time with our loved ones that is given to us while it lasts.
That is what I learned sitting around that Sunday Brunch table. We weren't rich people, both of my parents worked and we rented apartments to live in. We never had the most expensive things there were, but we never went without.
I learned that there are times to splurge, and cook for an army knowing that the smells, the company, the conversations would lead friends and family to our home. I learned that family matters most and that we should never look back in regret over not doing something that should have been done for them.
I learned all of this, sitting around a kitchen table after Sunday church drinking milk, and having a bagel and a shmear.
Be good, but not boring!
Macandbaird
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