Bread And Pop by Margaret Ullrich

One of the funny things about being over 60 is how things link together.

A word leads to a memory which leads to another word, and then another memory.

And so it goes.... like making a 1000 piece puzzle in the brain.

After 60, one has quite a pile of words and memories to link together.

We've been having a heat wave and I posted some easy-on-the-chef recipes.

Yesterday I wrote about Carmela's Grilled Bruschetta.

It really is a handy recipe and it goes with just about everything.

Including Ma's fruit and cheese combos.

And also with fresh tomatoes, with a touch of basil or oregano.

Or a nice bowl of homemade soup.

I wonder if Carmela has a recipe for soup?

The Bruschetta would be good with some Minestrone.

That would make a good recipe posting for my blog.

Oh, yeah, back to the memory posting...

I mentioned how some folks say a meal isn't a meal unless there's something hot.

Well, the bread recipe and the "a meal isn't a meal" comment reminded me of Pop.

Pop insisted on having bread at dinner.

That's why he didn't like Chinese.

Well, he meant their restaurants.

Chinese don't serve bread.

But, there was only a Chinese restaurant near our motel.

So, there was a problem.

Okay... I'll back up a bit.

In 2000 Paul and I decided to take a drive back east.

We were turning 50.

It was a new century.

Whatever.

We would visit my parents and then we'd all go on a small trip.

We'd drive along the coast and spend two days in Halifax.

We'd see the Tall Ships show in Halifax.

That, and Peggy's Cove, would be the touristy things for us.

For most of the trip the weather was fine.

Some rainy patches when we hit the Maritimes, but that was to be expected.

The hotel was fine.

They gave us a goody bag with booklets, Tall Ships souvenirs and '2000' pins.

The complimentary breakfast was fine.

Pop happily pocketed a few extra muffins for us to nosh while we saw the sights.

Well, they were for the guests and we were paying guests.

Peggy's Cove was fine.

We were there during its daily unfoggy half hour.

The other tourists were fine.

Ma said she'd met half the world at Peggy's Cove.

She was surprised that people in Europe and Asia had heard of the place.

The only restaurant near the motel was Chinese.

That was not fine.

Chinese don't serve bread.

It was past our usual supper time and three of us said we were hungry.

Once again, Pop was outnumbered.  

We ordered the dinner for four.

We were served a lovely assortment of dishes.

Ma said she liked everything she was eating.

I noticed Pop's plate held something from each dish.

By the end of the evening he had eaten everything, sauces and all.

It was too messy to pocket.

If only there'd been some Bruschetta.