A lazy afternoon

What do you do on a lazy afternoon?

I am staring at three fully ripe bananas.

“Shame you are not baking-inclined.  It’s such an easy recipe…”

Here I am, staring at three fully ripe bananas resting on a plate.  Not just any plate.  It’s a decorated plate from Rome.  A calf with big round eyes wiggling its tail among the tall grass, a fork and a tagine.  Hand written with the design are these scribbles : rigatoni alla Vaccinara, and round its edge, Ristorante “Cacciani”, Frascati. That is a town located 12 miles southeast of Rome, I had to Google to find out.  Turn the plate over and in permanent black ink is the year 1988.  We have another plate with a different design that says 1990.

I remember the years.  Those early years when I first landed in England, when he no longer regarded the fortnight-long overseas assignments as glamorous. His Italian colleagues still wined and dined him nevertheless, and afterwards a decorated plate for him to take home.  Those early years I struggled with cooking a proper meal.  Indeed, I came from a totally different world where house chores were for mothers and mothers alone.  Who was I to break the tradition?  So while mum was thousands of miles away, he had to come home after work to supervise in the kitchen.

A quarter of a century later, he can now look forward to a home cooked meal after a long day.  Braised oxtail?  No problem.   Just the other day, he mentioned it casually that I can do better than the Italians.  Bravo, alla Vaccinara!   Of course I am not letting it go to my head, given a choice I’ll surrender the kitchen anytime.

I have come a long way, don’t you think?   What started this reminiscence?   Right, I was staring at three fully ripe bananas.   See, although I am willing to feed us with proper meals, up to this day I still refuse to have messy fingers.   So, on this lazy afternoon, I am just sitting here and keep staring, wishing these bananas were a cake.  Someone might, just might, grant me the wish.


2 thoughts on “A lazy afternoon

    • It’s a deal, my dear friend. And steamed eggs too. Do you still like my steamed eggs?

      My wish was granted! Without hints, no prompting, even before this post was published, someone must have read my mind. A banana poppy seed walnut cake, isn’t it lovely?

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