A Gift From My Mom

 

The small business can be easily identified as the neighbourhood variety store by the antique looking coca-cola sign swinging out front. A piece of cardboard covers the growing crack in the large display window. Above, are windows into the personal residence of the owner - the unintended victim of large grocery stores.

Unannounced, we pop through the front door. My mother is servicing customers from behind a weather worn counter. The moment her eyes take us in, she lights up and asks, “Are you hungry?”

In moments, kitchen aromas trigger pavlovian responses. A decadently rich meal, affectionately coined as “heart attack” food, is placed before us. Massive quantities of koldunai come smothered with a sumptuous sauce of rich flavours created by combining butter, sour cream, and bacon bits. Served along side is pan fried Kugelis – a creamy potato pudding. Empty plates and wide smiles end the meal.

We hug and kiss our goodbyes. Gone as quickly as we had arrived.

 

Today, I have made enough to feed a dozen starving guests when a mere eight are coming. My comedic husband states, “You are your mother”. I laugh giving him a squeeze. “Thanks for the compliment.”