Today our neighbor Anita, who holds a special place in our hearts, gave us the most wonderful gift.
She let us cook for her.
She said - and I believe her - that she adored every bite.
Anita truly is a gourmet cook, and our family has had more than its share of incredible meals at her table. We have feasted on Peking duck wrapped in homemade crepe pancakes, shrimp in cream sauce, hot out of the oven cakes and pastries (from scratch, naturally) with frosting that's to die for...
Let me stop before I open the fridge and expand my waistline even more than it's already grown during this holiday season.
The problem with cooking for someone with such expertise is obvious. How can one with minimal talent in the kitchen hope to please the palate of a connoisseur?
Still, for Anita's holiday gift, my boys set out to make potato latkes for her. My son's dear friend, whom I affectionately refer to as "third son," joined in with gusto, and before we knew it, we had an assembly line of grating and mincing and mixing and frying that blended the aromas of onions, oil and, of course, potatoes into what I'm convinced love smells like.
The best part was how Anita gobbled them up. My culinary friend has a veritable cornucopia of tactful ways to decline seconds, ranging from "it's delicious, but I just ate," to "thank you, but I just can't afford the calories." None of these polite refusals was uttered or even hinted at today. Anita ventured forth calorically, eschewing common sense, and for once joined in our family's habitual piggery. She declared our little pancakes the best ever and, along with the rest of us, indulged freely (sans utensils - commonplace for me and my tribe but, under ordinary circumstances, unthinkable for her), standing up, clutching steamy, starchy cakes with oil-fingered abandon.
It was a gluttonous love fest.
I told Anita that her genuine enthusiasm for the boys' labor of love (she would have choked one down for the kids' sake, because that's the way she is, even if they had emerged gummy and inedible) was a true gift to all of us. Every one of us felt sheer delight at her sheer delight.
I can't think of a better way to start out the new year.
She let us cook for her.
She said - and I believe her - that she adored every bite.
Anita truly is a gourmet cook, and our family has had more than its share of incredible meals at her table. We have feasted on Peking duck wrapped in homemade crepe pancakes, shrimp in cream sauce, hot out of the oven cakes and pastries (from scratch, naturally) with frosting that's to die for...
Let me stop before I open the fridge and expand my waistline even more than it's already grown during this holiday season.
The problem with cooking for someone with such expertise is obvious. How can one with minimal talent in the kitchen hope to please the palate of a connoisseur?
Still, for Anita's holiday gift, my boys set out to make potato latkes for her. My son's dear friend, whom I affectionately refer to as "third son," joined in with gusto, and before we knew it, we had an assembly line of grating and mincing and mixing and frying that blended the aromas of onions, oil and, of course, potatoes into what I'm convinced love smells like.The best part was how Anita gobbled them up. My culinary friend has a veritable cornucopia of tactful ways to decline seconds, ranging from "it's delicious, but I just ate," to "thank you, but I just can't afford the calories." None of these polite refusals was uttered or even hinted at today. Anita ventured forth calorically, eschewing common sense, and for once joined in our family's habitual piggery. She declared our little pancakes the best ever and, along with the rest of us, indulged freely (sans utensils - commonplace for me and my tribe but, under ordinary circumstances, unthinkable for her), standing up, clutching steamy, starchy cakes with oil-fingered abandon.
It was a gluttonous love fest.
I told Anita that her genuine enthusiasm for the boys' labor of love (she would have choked one down for the kids' sake, because that's the way she is, even if they had emerged gummy and inedible) was a true gift to all of us. Every one of us felt sheer delight at her sheer delight.
I can't think of a better way to start out the new year.
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