Memories & food

Yesterday I cooked myself this for dinner (home alone!):
It is millet cooked in a bit salty milk with prunes. I poured over some melted butter and sprinkled it with sugar. It is an old dish that my grandmother used to cook when I was still going to a primary school. She cooked lunch for me and my brother when our lessons were in the afternoon. We were always late for school because she took care that her husband, so my grandfather got his dinner at exactly noon, which was of course too late for us to get to school in time. I have so many memories of these lunches which were not really pleasant. Once we received a soup in which beside parsley black lice was floating on top of it (my grandmother didn't see well). When we mentioned this to grandmother, grandfather roared that there are no lice in the soup and that we should eat it and be quiet. Right, we tried to eat soup without lice and we still laugh today remembering my grandfather enjoying his soup with lice. He was always listening to classical music before lunch and I liked that. What I didn't like were the obituaries after that. My grandmother's cooking was always the same. Right, she had a kind of broad repertoire of dishes but they always tasted the same. I mean, she could cook a dish which tasted exactly the same like the previous time. My dishes are always different; if this means that I am a bad cook, then I am. I can't properly cook classical dishes. They taste differently than they should. I tell this to everyone who happens to be my guest at dinner. Nobody complained this far but you never know.

I have a snack right now and I am eating a delicious dried persimmon. I receive those from my colleague and sometimes I bake him something with chocolate that he adores. My oven is clean again (yes, men!) and I can't wait to bake bread during the weekend. Or cookies, who knows!