Bee (on the verge of potential pre-bedtime meltdown): I'm hungry!
Slim: Why don't you have some gefilte fish?
Me: Wondering whether I will, in fact, ever eat the jar of gefilte fish I bought a couple of months ago.
Bee: I want 'filtafish! I want 'filtafish! I. Want. 'Filtafish!
Me: It's chopped-up fish.
Bee: ...
I don't want gefilte fish.
* * * * * *
Also, it occurs to me, now, that I'm going to have to be the one who introduces her to the food of my ancestors. Will look more closely at this recipe. Also, ask my mother's friend for her recipe, because her gefilte fish is the best I've ever had. (Which means better than exactly the following: (1) gefilte fish in a jar, and (2) my paternal grandmother's gefilte fish, which I only grew to enjoy as a university student, but not consistently. I say this to clarify that I am no gefilte fish expert. Not at all.)
Recent Comments