Who: Rose and open or narrative When: November 11th, Midafternoon Where: Outside her trailer What: Comfort food Ratings: Probably mild
Rose took most of her meals in the dining hall, when she remembered to eat, but she enjoyed cooking and tried to take time to do it every now and again. She wasn't sad that they'd left Russia; even though Moscow hadn't been near her home, it was the first time she'd been back in a long time. Despite the miles between the city they'd stayed in and the village where she'd been born, the snow, the language, the indefinable something in the air had brought back memories of her childhood. The warmth of her mother's house in winter, the scent of herbs and hot food cooking.
Almost without thinking about it, Rose made the decision to cook, her hands automatically reaching for ingredients to recipes she'd learned as a child, when kneading dough for pirozhki and pelmeni ended with her covered in flour from head to toe. It was to those old recipes that she turned - golubtsy, cabbage rolls stuffed with rice and minced beef that she started first before beginning a large batch of dough that would become beef and potato pirozhkis and khinkali, and using the last of the dough and cherries that she otherwise wouldn't eat to make sweet cherry varenyky.
The memories came unbidden, summoned by scent, the still-familiar feel of kneading dough under hands made strong and deft by decades of medical practice. Her father, laughingly stealing a spoonful from a pot of borscht or a freshly-made varenyky off the rack. He'd wink at Rose as if sharing a great conspiracy while her mother lovingly scolded him, flapping her apron at him as if to shoo him away. They all knew she snuck him extra even as she chased him away.
Rose came back to herself as she finished the last of the dishes, realizing she'd made much more food than she would ever eat before it went bad. The recipes in her head were crafted for a family, for her parents and twin sisters and the chance that her aunt and cousins would be eating with them, or just to make sure they'd have something to offer anyone who dropped by. For Rose alone, it would be gluttony.
She packed away what she wanted to keep for herself, opening doors and windows to air out her trailer while she pondered where she might be able to leave the extra food that it wouldn't go to waste.