Riding the bus into the loop to find a maternity coat that will accommodate my obscene belly, I sat next to an elderly gentleman wearing a WWII Veterans Cap. When a young man across the way stood to give his seat to an older woman, the WWII Veteran leaned over to me and said, "that was nice. It's not even a handicapped seat, so he didn't have to do that." Since I was sitting in a handicapped seat, I spent the next few blocks of the bus ride wondering whether he was trying to tell me nicely that I should stand up, and then wondered if he thought I was just fat, and not terribly, terribly pregnant.
But then a woman next to me needed help pulling the stop-please rope, and when I stood to yank it, WWII said, "is this your first baby?" Nothing like asking about Baby Bird to put me in a chitter chatter mood, so I said yes and asked if he had grandchildren. He went on about his grandson in Orlando, and then about Florida and how hot it is down there.
"I had a stroke recently," he said. "I couldn't speak for a year." Even to his cat. "I'd try to say hello to her and nothing would come out." So now, every chance he gets, he talks. "It's so nice to be able to communicate," he said. "Even if my voice doesn't sound quite right." I assured him it sounded fine, but he shook his head. "It's slow. Makes people think I'm slow."
Which indeed is what first crossed my mind when he mentioned the seat across the way. I felt guilty about that. To keep the conversation going, I asked him about his veteran's cap but he didn't say much about the war. Just that he was on a submarine for three years and lost some of his hearing because of the underwater pressure.
"Good luck with that baby," he said when it was time for him to get off the bus, and as I watched him go, I wondered if his cat was still alive, and if she and I were his only companions that day. I hope someone else spoke to him on the bus home. Or better yet, that a friend might meet him for dinner, and maybe, even if he isn't Jewish, make him some nice potato pancakes.
Little Crispy Latkes (submitted to a latke cook-off)
2 cups shredded onion, drained of excess liquid
1/3 pound parsnip, peeled and shredded (about 1 cup)
1/3 cup matzo meal
2 eggs
1 1/2 pounds russet potatoes, peeled
1 1/2 teaspoon salt
18 turns freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup chopped parsley
vegetable oil for frying
In a large mixing bowl, stir together drained, shredded onions; shredded parsnip, matzo meal and eggs. Shred the potatoes and squeeze out all excess liquid. Immediately stir into onions and parsnips. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Stir until thoroughly mixed. Stir in parsley. Heat 1/8-inch of vegetable oil in a large skillet until hot but not smoking. Scoop a tablespoon-size dollop of latke mixture into hot oil. Fry 3-4 minutes on a side until brown. Flip and gently press pancake to flatten. Cook another 3-4 minutes. Drain on paper towels. Serve with sour cream and applesauce.
2 cups shredded onion, drained of excess liquid
1/3 pound parsnip, peeled and shredded (about 1 cup)
1/3 cup matzo meal
2 eggs
1 1/2 pounds russet potatoes, peeled
1 1/2 teaspoon salt
18 turns freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup chopped parsley
vegetable oil for frying
In a large mixing bowl, stir together drained, shredded onions; shredded parsnip, matzo meal and eggs. Shred the potatoes and squeeze out all excess liquid. Immediately stir into onions and parsnips. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Stir until thoroughly mixed. Stir in parsley. Heat 1/8-inch of vegetable oil in a large skillet until hot but not smoking. Scoop a tablespoon-size dollop of latke mixture into hot oil. Fry 3-4 minutes on a side until brown. Flip and gently press pancake to flatten. Cook another 3-4 minutes. Drain on paper towels. Serve with sour cream and applesauce.
