i wasn’t able to celebrate mother’s day with my mom today, so instead, i decided to write a public ode to her.
that’s how you do things in 2013, no? i’ve written before how my mom is a fantastic cook and dinner party host. most of my culinary influence and desire to cook comes from her. that’s simple. but what other characteristics can i pull from my mother that have influenced me?
well, let’s start with my deep rooted need for all things fancy. do you know there is a brand of dried peaches that’s called “extra fancy”? she buys it. and she deserves it. do you know she will not step on hotel room carpet barefooted? no, fancy women cannot walk on the same carpet as strangers. to torture her, we used to move her sandals just far enough from the bed that she couldn’t reach them with her toes. until she made us move them back. and as much as i like to laugh and tease her about this, i’m slowly developing many similar tastes. and by slowly i mean i’m mainly there (no dumpy hotels for me anymore).
my mom almost exclusively wears skirts and high heels, no matter the situation. i remember when she used to come to my dance team competitions in high school – the other mom’s would be decked out in bison poms t-shirts and ribbons, cheering loudly and giving us big smiles. my mom, sitting in the upper row, with knee length skirt and pumps would watch intently and clap when we were done. then when she met us afterwards would give an accurate critique of our performance, often citing that the team before or after us had a little tighter choreography. but when she was impressed and we really were the best, the compliment and praise was there, and i knew it had to be true.
my friend whitney’s favorite story about my mom was when she first met her at our college graduation party. she asked her “aren’t you so proud of vicky?” and my mom said “you see, russian parents have really high standards.” that’s my mother in one sentence. also, can you believe how little she has changed in 30 years:
on the less fortunate side, i’ve also inherited my mother’s irrational fears. you see, if she doesn’t see a facebook status from me for 24 hours, she assumes i’m dead, naturally. back in college it was the same with AIM statuses, so at least she keeps up with the times. i still call my mom every time i get off a plane so she knows i’ve landed. i’m almost 30, and i travel a lot. i judge her for this, but my sister and i have both admitted to each other that we’re on the same irrational path, so i’m trying to stop rolling my eyes and just give in to the constant check ins to make sure we’re all still breathing.
and then there are the things that you pick up from your mother that was never taught, never instilled in you, never consciously discussed. it’s the way she puts on cream or lotion on her face. it’s a three step process that i do exactly in the same methodical order: dip finger in cream, make dot on forehead then nose then chin then right cheek then left cheek, rub cream in a clockwise fashion from top to bottom. step four: stretch out neck and examine pores.
so that’s my ode to my mother, but let’s not forget about the breakfast. it’s something we call moonstruck but is more commonly known as ‘eggs in a basket.’ you see, we watched the 1987 film called moonstruck as a family sometime in the 90s and saw cher cut a hole in bread and fry an egg in it. what a novel idea. so we called it moonstruck and my mom made it frequently for breakfast, usually in a bagel rather than a piece of bread. and i still love it.
- 1 tablespoon butter
- 1 bagel
- 1 egg
- salt and pepper to taste
- Melt butter on pan over medium heat.
- Cut a thin layer off the top and bottom of the bagel. Make the hole in the center of the bagel a little bigger, so a yolk can fit inside.
- Place bagel in pan and coat with butter on both sides.
- Crack egg directly in the middle of bagel. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Cook on one side for 2-3 minutes, flip carefully, and cook on the other side for an additional 2 minutes.
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