Prelude: So, I have a cultural (but not necessarily food-related) question. In Russia & Co. (Ukraine, Belarus, etc.), it is kind of a taboo to shake hands or say goodbye to someone over a threshold. People like pizza deliverers will not complete a purchase through a doorway, you must either go out or let them in. So I was wondering, is this similar here? I know the pizza thing isn’t but what about the shaking hands and goodbye thing? I was brought up in Russian culture, so I always get antsy when people try to do that to me, and always step over the threshold or freak out a little. I guess I might be crazy. Please be so kind as to provide an answer in the comments.
Now, onto the good stuff. If you can call my writing “good stuff”.
So, both Mr. Dintaman and Mr. Knight just declined our requests to become real human beings, get up at 4:00 AM, and see some cool planets. This got me thinking about morning, and my very habitual routine (which is rudely disrupted by being here).
Often in my dreams, I get up and repeat my routine. It’s so relaxing. I think my level of stress can be nicely measured by the amount of variation I currently have from my routine. I am a creature of habit. So, I get up, and then, if it is winter, I ask (or scream at) my grandmother to hand me the phone so I can call the snow phone, or if it summer, I just get up. I brush mah teeth and get dressed in either my base layer for skiing, or swim trunks for kayaking.
Here is the food part: Every morning at home, my grandfather makes this carrot mush stuff from carrots (duh), apples, honey, lemons, and “guilder rose” or “snowball bush” berries. Apparently that doesn’t translate well… Darn. I’d think that you Americans would have a name for something that grows quite abundantly in the western mountains of Maine (and all over the place in Russia). *Rantrantrant similar to Imogen’s citizenship rantrantrant*. Anywho, this carrot stuff is like, basically, a superfood, and I feel better when I eat it than when I don’t.
I then eat my signature bagel with cream cheese, usually paired with some combination of salami, buckwheat porridge (again, no nice translation… I would not call this porridge. I don’t know what to call it in English), feta/cottage cheese, and assorted vegetables. I will then either catch a ride to Sugarloaf, or kayak to my sandy little island and sleep/read. Now you see why I want to go home so badly.
Anywho, the point I’m trying to make is that my morning routine is part of what makes and defines me, mentally, physically, and culturally, and the food I eat is a critical part of that routine.