I love hearing my New England friends talking about their weekends. Went to the fish market. Bought half a dozen lobsters. Picked some corn. Made sangria from Reisling and peaches. Went to the beach but it was too cold. Drove back early Sunday to avoid traffic.
Compared to my hectic weekends at home.
Saturday: Drive down in 5 hours of stop and go traffic. Late lunch with Mom and Dad. Mom makes not one but two Pillaus. Her world famous vegetable Pillau chock full of turnips, peas, beans, califlower & meat Pillau with curried chunks of lamb. I'm hungry enough to eat 2 platefuls, but eat three. I've observed one of those unfathomable occurances when it comes to eating. Sometimes you can barely put away half a 12 oz steak. Other times you can devour an entire plate of pasta bolognese. What's up with that? I think it's because we are conditioned to eat plentiful based on our culinary roots. Take for example Indian food. An Indian girl who picks at her large Cobb salad could easily take down a plate of heaping coconut rice, topped with a chicken curry, egg and potato curry, maybe a lamb curry, dahl and yogurt salad. Not just once but twice! It's the same conditioning that allows an Italian to devour an entire plate of pasta and sauce. Or the Polsky to gorge on a dozen pirogy with kielbasa and sour cream. It's the culinary hood you feel most comfortable with that you can ingest stupid quantities.
Take dog for a walk in the park while Mom sits on the swing. while driving back the radio blares SHE SHAKIN THAT THANG LIKE. Mom wants to know. "What is that thing and why is she shaking it?" Take a nap. Hit the stores for presents for my neice. Head back home to entertain friends visiting from out of town. Watch an Indian movie. Watch more of the movie. Keep watching the movie. Go to sleep.
Sunday:
9:00 am and I am tilling the fields of my parents backyard. Loosening the soil for Mom's vegetable garden. I've inherited their love of soil and shrub, attested by the sheaf of mint I plucked from my garden so Mom would have fresh mint for her chutney. The parental garden consists of a 8 x 6 plot of land designated for veggies. Adjacent to a similar plot beneath a wooden trellis under which grows water gourd, bitter gourd, zucchinis, melons and squash. The zucchinis are in flower, which Mom drops into her okra and tomato curries. Very tasty she assures me. In the uncovered plot grows Methi, a pungent small leafed green - delicious stir fried with onions, mustard seeds and red chilies. Sugar snap peas, extraodinarily sweet but tough skinned flank one side while small shoots of gongera spring in neat if parched rows. While New York suffered through daily floods of Antideluvian proportions, Maryland barely got damp. Jalepenos, serranos, tomato plants rigged by individual fences for support and as a deterrant to the leaf-thieves. Mom suspects the wild kitty. Me thinks a bunny a better culprit. Duke doesn't care, lemme at him! is all he says.
It's almost noon and time for a late breakfast. Then I'm off to my neices birthday party. Then the long drive back home.
Somehow weekend's in Maryland just don't have that calm allure. But then, when has my family life ever been calm?
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