Puttering Memories

While attempting to make a pseudo-Nasi Goreng, I keep touching more on memories than food preparation. Nasi was the first Indonesian dish I learned to cook. Nasi Goreng is the Netherlands. Nasi Goreng is woks, gas ovens and yesteryear.

Putting away the olive oil, my hand seems to discover some Citrucel. I wouldn't doubt that this package of tabs is more than 20 years ago, and that my father gave me these packets in 1985 the last time I visited him in Los Angeles.

Then when I wash up the odds and ends around the sink I wipe off my bread knife. I take a look to see what brand it is as it has held up since I got married in 1968. It is Rostfrei Solingen. Certainly a bargain as it cuts today through a slice of bread like the day we received it for a wedding gift.

Of course my knife looks different--made so many years earlier.

Knives make me think of Mexico, Fred Hoffman, one of my favourite colleagues, friend and mentor, long gone and knives. A month before I got married I was in Mexico City making a film, with funds from Pfizer, on diabetes. Fred was my medical advisor on shoots like this while I acted as Project Supervisor.

Fred and I went shopping one day, alone I think and I admired a set of carving knives--four pieces: two different length knives, a sharpener and a large fork. He bought it for me for a wedding gift, and I have that set, also, in perfect user condition today, used less often than when I was a pampered matron, but use it I do.

Fred like two other terrific men in my life, Armando and James, died too young of heart failure. I miss them all, their wisdom and good humour.

Perhaps it is the prospect of going to Mexico again or the quiet day...but I am flooded with memories.