The Come-Back, Day 6. Cooking Away.
The days continue, sunlight dancing on our eyes, wind blowing through the crannies, swirling the leaves upside down. Days that seem normal now, until we step somewhere that used to be teeming with people living their normal lives. Now, they stay apart and wear masks, swerving to avoid others.
Days continue with meals being made and eaten. Simple meals, usually, unless I feel inspired and want to spend time in the kitchen, concentrating on cobbling together something more exotic. Or I'm forced to do so on specific days, such as Christmas. Generally, I'm too impatient and get too hungry, so I go for the faster meals.
Our daughter is a vegetarian and, during the lockdown, sometimes sent us photos and videos of her making her lunch. She told us she made a rice to die for and that she would make it for us when she came home.
She did so yesterday evening. Mine she made with little salt, plenty of hot pepper, coloring, bay leaves, and garlic. Her father's was the same, except with more salt. Both were a mixture of vegetables and short grain rice.
That it was to die for is incorrect. The preposition should be changed to create a different phrasal verb. She explained that it didn't taste as good as it should because there wasn't enough white wine. This morning, I ordered a vegetarian cookbook for students online. Even if she doesn't follow the recipes exactly, she can get an idea of good cooking. She really does need the guidance. She cooked for us out of the goodness of her heart, but let's say she would never be accepted on Master Chef.
Slowly, more cars are appearing on the roads. Until Phase One began, on Saturday and Sunday afternoons you could almost spread out a picnic lunch in the middle of the road without having to get up until you were finished. At nights, however, especially on the weekend, there are almost no cars at all. There is an effective curfew from 11PM to 6AM. The only ones allowed out between those hours are those who are coming or going to work, or out on an emergency. That is much to the chagrin of a young cousin of ours, who would have loved to go out tonight with my daughter and two other friends. Bar and café terraces are open with fewer tables, but not after eleven.
That hasn't stopped some people from throwing private parties in shuttered cafés or private homes. The hoity-toity rich who miss showing off their Prada bags and shoes in Madrid's Salamanca barrio aren't the only ones who complain about their "loss" of liberty. Instead of fines, these infractors should be clothed head to foot in protective gear and shown the inside of an ICU with Covid-19 patients. Perhaps they would then understand that their freedom to associate is trumped by their need of freedom from illness.
The applause that so many neighbors in so many cities and towns gave in honor of the health care workers going through hell for us, is disappearing. So, too, is the music trickling from different windows. Before she came home, a neighbor on my daughter's street still broadcast music, but he was the only one. What I don't know, is if anyone ever tried to do what these three guys did. From the license plates, it seems to be somewhere in Europe, but I don't know where. I doubt very much that it's in Spain.
Life continues.
Days continue with meals being made and eaten. Simple meals, usually, unless I feel inspired and want to spend time in the kitchen, concentrating on cobbling together something more exotic. Or I'm forced to do so on specific days, such as Christmas. Generally, I'm too impatient and get too hungry, so I go for the faster meals.
Our daughter is a vegetarian and, during the lockdown, sometimes sent us photos and videos of her making her lunch. She told us she made a rice to die for and that she would make it for us when she came home.
She did so yesterday evening. Mine she made with little salt, plenty of hot pepper, coloring, bay leaves, and garlic. Her father's was the same, except with more salt. Both were a mixture of vegetables and short grain rice.
That it was to die for is incorrect. The preposition should be changed to create a different phrasal verb. She explained that it didn't taste as good as it should because there wasn't enough white wine. This morning, I ordered a vegetarian cookbook for students online. Even if she doesn't follow the recipes exactly, she can get an idea of good cooking. She really does need the guidance. She cooked for us out of the goodness of her heart, but let's say she would never be accepted on Master Chef.
Slowly, more cars are appearing on the roads. Until Phase One began, on Saturday and Sunday afternoons you could almost spread out a picnic lunch in the middle of the road without having to get up until you were finished. At nights, however, especially on the weekend, there are almost no cars at all. There is an effective curfew from 11PM to 6AM. The only ones allowed out between those hours are those who are coming or going to work, or out on an emergency. That is much to the chagrin of a young cousin of ours, who would have loved to go out tonight with my daughter and two other friends. Bar and café terraces are open with fewer tables, but not after eleven.
That hasn't stopped some people from throwing private parties in shuttered cafés or private homes. The hoity-toity rich who miss showing off their Prada bags and shoes in Madrid's Salamanca barrio aren't the only ones who complain about their "loss" of liberty. Instead of fines, these infractors should be clothed head to foot in protective gear and shown the inside of an ICU with Covid-19 patients. Perhaps they would then understand that their freedom to associate is trumped by their need of freedom from illness.
The applause that so many neighbors in so many cities and towns gave in honor of the health care workers going through hell for us, is disappearing. So, too, is the music trickling from different windows. Before she came home, a neighbor on my daughter's street still broadcast music, but he was the only one. What I don't know, is if anyone ever tried to do what these three guys did. From the license plates, it seems to be somewhere in Europe, but I don't know where. I doubt very much that it's in Spain.
Life continues.
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