Читать книгу Collection of Stories - Igor Yevtishenkov - Страница 8

* TIMES CHANGE, BUT NOT NECESSARILY FOR THE BETTER

My granny used to tell me she had to go to the market every day to buy fresh meat and vegetables for dinner. It was before the refrigerator was invented. Traditionally, eating was something that all family members did together because there was no chance to grab a bite or have a snack on the go like nowadays. In the past, most parents insisted that the whole family sat around the dining table at a certain time. They prayed and tried to act politely while eating. Even my mother used to tell me, “When my lunch is at its peak, I’m deaf and mute, so please don’t speak.” I can’t hear it today among my friends and it is most unlikely that I will say it to my kids.

Technical inventions have dramatically changed our habits and behavior. Usually we watch TV, smartphones or tablet PCs while we eat; we don’t share breakfast and lunch with our family and eat at different times. Microwaves have changed the way we cook and today it’s easy to do it in seconds without having to wait until your parents come back home from work. I know that it’s very rare for a lot of my friends’ families to sit at the table together and share their news over a good meal. Moreover, the thought of cooking for someone at home makes them nervous and anxious, for guests in particular. If it happens, the day turns into a nightmare and the hosts don’t feel happy at all. So, most prefer having snacks and lunch outside and ordering pizza or other convenience food has become quite natural. That’s why, times change, but not necessarily for the better.

* I LIKE TO COOK

I like throwing a dinner party for my friends. Yesterday I prepared a chicken casserole and put it in the freezer to make sure it did not go off. I took it out of the freezer in the morning and defrosted it. Then I put the chicken on and made a salad of lettuce, cheese, pickled carrot and ham. I heated up the casserole, making sure that it did not boil over and asked my boyfriend to pop out for some drinks.

* THE BIRTHDAY PARTY

The birthday was great, my mother helped me set the table and handed round plates with snacks and salad. My brother poured out drinks. As anyone needed a refill, he immediately came up and topped up their glasses. I served the main dish and all my friends dug in to pork and mashed potatoes. It was Daisy who didn’t touch her food.

“Why are you picking at the salad?” my brother asked her.

“Now she’s gonna say she pigged out on pizza this morning’, her boyfriend said gleefully and winked at him. “She thinks she needs to lose weight. So she has to cut down on fatty food’.

Soon he polished off both plates and happily smiled. He said it went well with the salad and everyone agreed. I started passing biscuits and gateau round while everyone else went outside to chat and let their dinner digest.

* NOTHING TO EAT

As we had nothing to eat the next day, I decided to get a takeaway. I ordered a sea-food pizza, my favourite. My brother says that I live on pizza because I adore it and eat it so often. I don’t argue because we have no leftovers. He will have to put up with my choice. I can’t be bothered cutting up onion, taking off tomato skins, chopping, boiling and frying all that in the morning. No way! I’m not cut out for it!

* ENJOY YOUR FOOD

When you’re in a hurry, you don’t chew and instead you gobble your food down. If you want to enjoy it, you have to take time. I don’t remember the taste of what we were eating while serving in the Navy, we just wolfed it down and that’s it. Now I can afford to eat out every day but my wife likes to eat in and I have to admit she has a knack for cooking! On Saturday mornings, we usually send out for fish sandwiches and a nice tiramisu cake. Sometimes our friends call us and we have them round and serve up something special. While I’m barbecuing, my wife slices pizza up and lets everyone help themselves to what they want.

I know that Mike and Jenny, our neighbours, cut meat out entirely from their diet. They both have gastric ulcers and meat causes stabbing pains in their stomachs. It does not agree with them, so my wife usually cooks steamed vegetables and chicken for them. That goes well with olives and lettuce. I think we have to follow them if we want to feel healthier. They say a lot of raw vegetables can fill me up even though I suspect it’s not true, but my wife thinks vegetables can help her stay slim and she won’t put on weight. She says I can put away three steaks, a pizza and some beer in one meal and it’s unhealthy. Of course, it’s much better be off picking at a salad for half an hour pretending it’s so delicious. Oh, those women!

* IT STARTED SO INNOCENTLY

You know pizza is a kind of meal that takes some drink to wash it down. It might be either spicy or quite dry and water helps me swallow it. My friends usually drink beer and they say “let’s drink to the teetotaler’ bantering with me. Today I woke up late and had some chocolate biscuits with milk and cereal. I didn’t really want it and just was dipping a biscuit in milk. It soaked up the milk and I was enjoying it very much. I felt great that morning after being out the night before at a party with my mates. Even dark stains on the tablecloth didn’t make me feel sick. I was smiling, recalling Jane trying to water down neat whiskey with sweet cola. Her hands were shaking and cola spilled over the edge of the glass. She’d never drunk whiskey before and it made her feel nervous because she wanted to look cool. So it was enough for her to drink it up and flake out, out cold, as if she were an alcoholic, drinking like a fish every night. She’s been sleeping upstairs in my bedroom since then.

* LOCATING THE POSITION

A hungry man goes into a restaurant at a railway station and orders a whole chicken. He asks a waiter to bring it to him to examine it before cooking. The waiter brings one at once. The hungry man puts his point finger into the chicken’s rump and says:

‘It’s from Brazil, defrosted and 6 months old. Ugh, how disgusting! Bring me a fresh one.’ Stunned, the waiter goes away. The manager sends him across the street to the butcher’s. The waiter, breathing heavily, takes a fresh chicken to the strange man. The hungry man again puts his point finger into the chicken’s rump and says:

‘Hm-m, it’s from a local village, killed two days ago. But it’s ok. Cook it!’

A visitor at another table, drunk and barely able to move, comes up to the stranger, turns his back on him, lowers his trousers, underpants to his knees and asks in a stammering voice:

‘Excuse me, I’ve been here for a few days and can’t remember where I am from. Could you help me, please?’