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Jan. 13th, 2010 11:04 pmToday was one of those quiet and gentle family days that I seem to see so rarely. Mum and I ran messages and chatted and drank much tea. We talked a great deal about my two fathers.
I finally told her why the very first restaurant meal I ever had (in a bistro in New Zealand) was so very different from anything she'd ever cook. My first father hated eating out. He wasn't nearly as worried about kashruth as Mum, but he did prefer her cooking to anyone's. So the simple steak dinner I had that night bowled me over.
A friend in London taught me how to make a fine steak that tasted exactly like the one in New Zealand. She was totally perplexed about my excitement about a perfectly simple and common method of cooking steak. I could make beef rendang (and still can) and other supposedly tricky exotic dishes, but a simple steak was something i had never encountered?
Ever since my friend revealed the Secret of the Fine Steak Dinner, I've kept it from Mum. Why? The steak was cooked in butter.
Mum let me use her library card and I maxed it out. I made sure there were books I wanted her to read, of course. Last time I was down I borrowed a book by Jack Dann on Mum's card. Mum is now addicted to his writing. This is a good thing.
Today's books-for-Mum were Kaaron Warren's Slights and Jeff VanderMeer's Shriek. Mum may never eat mushrooms again...
PS The books I thrust on my mother aren't always spec fic. They're always, however, particularly fine reading. I have an Anne Tyler in reserve should she finish the others quickly.
PPS My reading tonight is Buffy and Mercedes Lackey. Perfect to unwind with. This year may well be challenging and so I need to unwind a great deal. I have a giant stack of unwindy books, all on Mum's library card. That and a Malouf from one of Mum's shelves. My mind is calm and my soul happy. All it takes is books.
I finally told her why the very first restaurant meal I ever had (in a bistro in New Zealand) was so very different from anything she'd ever cook. My first father hated eating out. He wasn't nearly as worried about kashruth as Mum, but he did prefer her cooking to anyone's. So the simple steak dinner I had that night bowled me over.
A friend in London taught me how to make a fine steak that tasted exactly like the one in New Zealand. She was totally perplexed about my excitement about a perfectly simple and common method of cooking steak. I could make beef rendang (and still can) and other supposedly tricky exotic dishes, but a simple steak was something i had never encountered?
Ever since my friend revealed the Secret of the Fine Steak Dinner, I've kept it from Mum. Why? The steak was cooked in butter.
Mum let me use her library card and I maxed it out. I made sure there were books I wanted her to read, of course. Last time I was down I borrowed a book by Jack Dann on Mum's card. Mum is now addicted to his writing. This is a good thing.
Today's books-for-Mum were Kaaron Warren's Slights and Jeff VanderMeer's Shriek. Mum may never eat mushrooms again...
PS The books I thrust on my mother aren't always spec fic. They're always, however, particularly fine reading. I have an Anne Tyler in reserve should she finish the others quickly.
PPS My reading tonight is Buffy and Mercedes Lackey. Perfect to unwind with. This year may well be challenging and so I need to unwind a great deal. I have a giant stack of unwindy books, all on Mum's library card. That and a Malouf from one of Mum's shelves. My mind is calm and my soul happy. All it takes is books.