- A lot of confusion about its plural “fish or fishes” but absolutely no doubt about the universality of its
“value”. The abundance , the catching, hooking, cooking,frying, fishing, serving, selling, and then the pleasure of eating.
“Pleasure? Who said that ? I looked around.
“Oh dear me, eating fish is quite a task. A great risk of getting the hairline fish bone stuck somewhere down the larynx or gullet, if one is not utterly vigilant. “Eating fish is a technique to be learnt”. Many cultures around the world have fish as staple food.
A home coming from Europe, after a gap of a year and a half, my son wanted to revisit the special places which enriched our family life with happy memories.
Here I refer to the many happy food memories. I would call them memories for in the present times its a great risk going out for a treat, lest something sharp, blazing may fall from the sky and there goes the fish and the dish, and the spoon and the wish.
Times change.The house emptier quieter and giving a packed up look, no longer filled with girlish giggles, colorful clothing and all sorts of music, food and fun, yet it was home. My son, feeling the quietude, definitely missing the sisters,smiled while he seemed to be engrossed in news or views on the mini screen, raised his head and said, “Mom!”
“Mom, let’s go out , let’s go for a treat of fried fish”.
“Murree Road Committee Chowk? (a special place but about ten miles away)
or closer than that was Saddar, the Main City market area.
“Well, it could be the closer one”.
Soon we were on the road, the main Dalhousie Road-
(Rawalpindi Cantonment has many roads named after prominent British officers)
as we turned left on to the old Massey Gate Road so named during the Colonial Times, the area seemed quite lit up, “people are coming in still” I thought. It was 9 p.m.
“People love fish and the “Fried Fish”shopping section was all alive with colored lights, flashing.
“Well, business has its own styles’.
Fried fish was delicious, just the right amount of salted masala and served with hot naan roti fresh from the tandoor.
We sat for an hour or so, quite relaxed though I wondered if anyone would be interested in buying the stuffed toy animals being sold just outside, at this hour of the night.
yes, may be, something “fishy” may be going on in the country but for the time the treat of fried fish was once again a memorable event. Soon my son would be flying back to Europe-
Next home coming ?A hope and a prayer~
Grand Daughter Mahnoor- When one is too small to see and cut the yummy cake- A chair enables one to see the world.
From Darcie Friesen Hossack
The Mennonite families of three of my grandparents came to Canada from Ukraine. I don’t know if I still have relatives there. The remainder may have all come after WW2. I do know I wouldn’t exist if not for those who lived and farmed in Ukraine. So, this week, Chefhusband and I are making Varenyky in thanks and hope and love for one of the lands of my ancestors.
Varenyky with cream gravy was a staple at my grandparents’ house. Grandma filled some with cottage cheese and the rest with sweetened Saskatoon berries that I helped Grandpa pick from a wild grove near their farm in Schoenfeld, Saskatchewan.
3 large eggs, beaten
1 cup milk
½ cup cream
2 tbs butter, melted
1 tsp salt
flour to make a stiff dough (5-6 cups)
In the bowl of a powerful electric mixer (ie: Kitchen Aid) whisk together eggs, milk, cream, melted butter and salt. Using the dough hook attachment add flour, a cup at a time. After about 4 ½ to 5 cups, turn dough out onto countertop and knead by hand, incorporating more flour as needed. (The consistency of the dough should be similar to pasta dough, but it’s a matter of preference.) Continue kneading until the dough is smooth and elastic. Divide in half and cover…
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