It strikes me as amazing, somehow, to have spent the better part of a weekend hunting for kosher food – if not non-stop, at least somewhat preoccupiedly. And then, this evening, just as I was almost ready to get supper on the table (hot & sour soup a la David Chu’s Bistro and some really nice garden chive mushu pancakes), my mother called and said “Can you put it away? I want to take you all out to Bistro Grande!”
So we walked to my mother’s – a leisurely <5 minutes with cool breezes wafting us along. And then, with my mother, walked through the park to the restaurant, maybe 10 minutes.
No hunting, no searching, no wondering where our next meal was coming from. Even if you’re not actively hungry, when you’re a kosher-eater, you’re kind of always wondering where you’re going to eat next. At least I do. I figure, if you don’t eat kosher, you can find something almost anywhere… but if you are, and you want more than a chocolate bar or bag of chips, it’s a little tougher to find palatable options. And top it off with a strange city and you have a surreal and discomfiting kind of disorientation.
So now we’re home, and the food is easy to find, in our own familiar kitchen, or not far away, over familiar footpaths. The discomfitude lifts and vanishes for good.
Plus, there’s some really yummy soup in the fridge – and mushu pancakes in the freezer – just a-waiting for tomorrow night’s supper!
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