Father was in town at the time the younger Beastie, Natalia Zoe*, was born. As soon as my first contractions started (five minutes apart) I kissed my two daughters, grabbed the overnight bag, and hobbled to the car, accompanied by Father giving the last bits of advice and Husband trying not to panic, patting his pockets checking for all the essentials. We piled in and took off, running several stop signs on the way, brakes screeching, trying to make it to the hospital in time, admonished by midwives who noticed that I tend to expel the offspring with super sonic speed.
Husband was a veteran labor coach, cool and composed on surface, at least. I was a pro on deliveries without epidurals or pain-killers, not because I was Super-Hero brave, but because there was never enough time for the medication to kick in. Father, a practicing ObGyn in Serbia, could not help it. He morphed by default from a by-stander and a grandfather to a physician in charge. Clad in a plaid flannel shirt, but armed with years of experience (according to him he delivered over 7500 babies ), he dismissed the midwives with a universally understood authoritative sweep of his hand and they retreated, assuming the roles of assistants… delivery room sous chefs in their own kitchen if you will, without comprehending a word he was saying. Meanwhile I was in too much pain to concentrate on the drama revolving around me. I just wanted the ordeal to be over. I delivered my red-headed baby right into Father’s skillful hands. He let the Husband cut the umbilical cord and moved away, allowing the midwives to finish. To this day I have not forgiven Husband for just standing there mesmerized by Father while I lay neglected, forgotten, biting my lips in pain, trying to get somebody to at least look at me. I know, I know, it all went so fast…
For weeks I combed the family tree trying to find an ancestor with red hair whose genes my extremely cute and very funny-looking baby inherited, all in vain. Husband had finally unearthed an obscure carrot-top Uncle and that had to be enough. She was a high-maintenance child who did not like to leave my arms. I put her to sleep singing Serbian songs while rocking her gently, only to start the ritual anew after less then an hour when she would wake up screaming at the top of her lungs. Exhausted, we started calling her Zozo-Monster. Along the years we dropped the latter part of her nickname because she grew up to be an adorable, gentle, albeit headstrong child. Her hair went through several incarnations of red, settling on the reddish-blond of today.
She is a sensitive girl, full of love, and eager to help around the house. She gives the warmest hugs and writes loving notes that she e-mails or tapes on our bedroom door. She collects insects and odd vegetables as pets. She annoys her slightly older sister and gets along with the College Kritter. She has an astounding sense of humor and an acute mind. Kids in her school like her, but she is not aware of that.
She is truly a gourmand, willing to try anything, embracing the most impossible ingredients. She loves to cook and bake, and since she was five her favorite meal was mussels, cooked in white wine, garlic, diced tomato, parsley and butter. When we visit in Serbia, she cannot get enough of the fresh, in season fruit.
There is an apricot tree in my parents’ back yard, and while all the other grandkids use it as an alternative to monkey bars, she spends hours perched atop its branches, picking fruit and eating it, climbing higher and higher, fancying herself an explorer lost in the jungle of green and orange. That tree is her favorite place on earth.
I could not take the Beasties to Serbia this year. College Kritter has been there since mid May, using her grandparents’ house as a base while she transversed Central Europe. But our local Persian store had some incredible apricots in stock and I bought a bundle. Zoe ate the apricots with abandon, juices running down her chin, all the time lamenting the absence of her favorite tree.
I knew that I bought too much fruit. So be it. Apricots and peaches touch my soul. They remind me of care-free summers, of Mother’s kitchen, of my sister’s July birthday. There are piles of stone fruit singing their seductive Lorelei songs from the markets all over town. I can always buy more. I needed an excuse to buy more, and the apricots that the younger Beastie could not devour ended up as jam.
I cut up the ripe fruit in small bits, orange pulp covering my fingers. I placed the aromatic mush in a pot, added a bit of sugar mixed in with the pectin, let it come to boil, and added the rest of the sugar. After a minute the jam was finished, bright orange, smelling like summer, making me envision crepes, and ravioli, and fresh bread lathered with butter and a scoop of orange goodness on top.
The Beasties and I are finding numerous ways to use this jam. And every time before we spread it on bread or roll it into a crepe, we close our eyes and inhale deeply, filling not our lungs, but our hearts with the smell of plump, ripe, perfect pink-orange globes resting in the branches of that apricot tree in my parents’ yard in Serbia.
* If Husband had had his say, she would have been named Andromeda, Xaviera, or Artemis. Right.
APRICOT JAM (DŽEM OD KAJSIJE)
This jam is cooked only for 1 minute! It smells heavenly and keeps at least some of its fruity goodness.
Ingredients:
- 800gr ( a little under 2 lbs) apricots (peaches, nectarines, or plums), pitted
- 250gr sugar
- 1 package of Dr. Oetker’s “Jam Fix” pectin
Directions:
Cut up your fruit in very small bits and put in a stainless steel pot. If necessary mashed the pulp with a potato masher. Mix the contents of the envelope with 2 tablespoons of sugar and add to fruit. Heat to medium-high temperature, constantly stirring, and when it boils add the remaining sugar. Stir for another minute or two and take off the heat. Pour into a glass jar and use immediately.
I am linking this post to Two for Tuesdays event.
Fenomenalna priča (šta kaže Anđelka sad – ima li ko da te demantuje?)
A praviš li sok od kajsija? Pre …hmhm…skoro 30 godina (!!!), na jednoj letnjoj sedeljci pod hladnjakom (i svuda okolo), tvoja mama nam je ponudila da degustiramo njeno piće neobičnog ukusa. Niko nije uspeo da pogodi da je umesto konzervansa dodala vanilin prah u sok od kajsija i dobila totalno neobičan i neprepoznatljiv ukus. Evo ideje za recept i lepog podsećanja.
Eto, vidiš, a ja se toga ama apsolutno ne sećam! Mozak je neverovatan, pojma nemamo šta čuva, a šta zakopava.
Što se Andjelke tiče, još se nije izjasnila. Valjda će biti OK. Ja se brinem za prethodni post, u kome sam pisala o njoj i Dušanu! Naravno, tata ne čita moj blo, ali ona povremeno zaviri, pa ne znam kakve će biti reakcije
What a lovely post. When she is a mother she will have these same memories that you are now sharing. She will share them with her own little beasties as they eat apricots and make this jam.
Thank you for kind words. It makes me really happy when I get a feedback on my post.
Greetings from California.
HO LEEEEE COW! I don’t know where to begin! You are an amazing storyteller! I can see the love for food and books just singing off the page (hellllooooo kindred spirit!). This was touching, beautiful post…and I was sooo ready to read more. I’m so happy that you’ve joined us and shared this with Two for Tuesdays!! =)
I was reading along, forgetting I was at at Two for Tuesday post – you tell the story so well. Your daughter is stunningly beautiful. Being headstrong will serve her well!
thanks for linking to Two for Tues!
Thank you, Christy, for stopping by. A new blogger like me always appreciated feedback. I am happu to be a part of Two for Tuesday!
Thanks, Heather! Now I have to go read all the CTB posts that I missed! And I cannot wait to unearth your archives!
Oh lana, you made me cry with your story all about your Zozo! I have two girls and one is a deep copper headed head strong lovely like yours! I also adore apricot jam for savory meat dishes. Thanks for posting another great recipe on the two for tuesday recipe blog hop!
Alex@amoderatelife
Lana – It is such a pleasure for me to sit back, cup of tea in hand, and read your posts. Thank you for sprinkling your magic fairy dust at Two for Tuesday.
Thanks, Alex! I am elated to be able to contribute, even with stories. I have three daughters, one brunette, one blonde, one red-haired!
Thank you! For so many years I wrote only for myself. I am so happy that my writing can touch people!
Thank, you, Heather! I am so happy to have found all of this treasure! I just wish I could quit my miserable job and read and write more, and more, and more… Don’t we all?
Lana, what a wonderful post. Those of us out here in “blogland” are so privileged that you chose to share your story, your beautiful daughter, and of course your exceptional looking jam (apricot is my favourite). Thank you.
Sue
Thank you so much! As a new blogger I receive every kind comment as a momentary boost of confidence.