Eggs in many baskets

Monday morning. Have spilled orange juice all over myself, but thanks to a damp sponge and a (once) clean tea towel, have cleaned up mess. Weather: cloudy. Apartment: messy. Allergies: active. Temperament: not so bad.

I nearly forgot that Easter was coming. This year we’re staying at home for the sake of Zsolt’s study habits and the impending viva.  But I will miss having an Easter with family. In Canada we go to my grandmother’s home (Bonjour Lulu!), or someone’s home in Quebec, and share a lunch. My family is comprised of cooks and bakers, and people create excellent food. Like, lick your fingers and smack those lips excellent.  When we were younger (proper grandchildren rather than adult grandchildren) Lulu would always hand out these large chocolate bunnies with marshmallow filling. They were pretty to look at – I loved the idea of them, the idea of the chocolate and the bright pinks, yellows, blues on the wrapper . . .of a bunny who also collects painted eggs and carries a blue tinfoil basket. . .  but could never bring myself to love that marshmallow filling. Oh well.

In Hungary, Zsolt’s mother will hard boil about two dozen eggs, and his sister will prepare the dyes out in the garden. Then we’ll sit around for an hour or two and dye the eggs. I love it. After you have your egg dyed with whatever colour arrangement you choose (all red, half red, half blue, some purple in between, or yellow and blue with a green band, etc) you take some pork fat and rub into the egg shell to make it shine. On Easter morning people crack into the coloured eggs, but Zsolt’s mom saves the prettiest ones from hungry fingers.

And speaking of eggs, I have a fertility appointment this week. Wednesday.  It’ll be a family gathering of sorts. In that it’s about family, and there will be a gathering.  A good friend recommended I stop thinking about fertility and just give my body a break. Good reasoning. It’s on my ‘to do’ list (along with some meditation). But first there’s this appointment.

Right, back to Monday morning. Orange juice is under control. Time to make some breakfast if I can find a clean dish in this mess. Yesterday I made a fantastic meal of some curry chicken and a soup. But fantastic meals leave me knackered, and I can never bother with the dishes immediately. As a result my flat looks like a culinary Armageddon.

But that’s okay. 🙂  And now, onwards with the day.

4 thoughts on “Eggs in many baskets

  1. I love the honesty of your posts! And I can relate to the “armageddon of fantastic meals.” I made kielbasa, sauerkraut and mounds of mashed potatoes for a neighbor yesterday (his wife is away and he needed some love – this is his favorite dish). Then crowds of teenagers descended and attacked the leftovers. The kitchen looked like military maneuvers just ended. LOL

    Funnily enough, my husband and I are traveling to Montreal to spend Easter with his extended family (some from Canada, some from England, some from USA). This will be my first Easter in Quebec. I will pass on your regards to beautiful Quebec!

    Keep on writing and I will keep on reading,

    • Hello Teri, thanks so much for commenting 🙂 And that food sounds AMAZING. I’d like to offer you an open invitation to come and cook in my kitchen. I’m almost drooling just thinking about that excellent combo. Talking about being a good neighbour.

  2. Hi Catherine,

    Growing up in Barbados, my mom and I have fond memories of Easter Sunday. Mom would hide the chocolate Easter eggs in the garden, and then it would be a race between me and my three dogs to find them. The dogs were really excited… they thought they were helping me find hidden treasure. It was also a race against the sun since the eggs would melt quickly.

    My favourite Easter egg was the size of my fist with fluffy white marshmallow inside. Hum… if you were my sister, I’m sure I would have eaten your marshmallow bunny in exchange for a hollow, chocolate bunny.

    I’m seeing mom for Easter, so I’m sure she’ll remind me of those long-gone Easter Sundays. Easter in Barbados was always a very pretty time of the year. The old-fashioned, limestone, wind-driven sugar mill which was just across the grassy field from where I lived would be covered in yellow flowers. The grassy field and surrounding sugar cane fields are now long gone, but the old sugar mill is still there, preserved by its current owners.

    Wishing you and Zsolt a wonderful Easter weekend.

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