By Irena Nieslony
Let food be thy medicine, and let thy medicine be food.
~Hippocrates
"I don't want to go," I said, the tears starting to fall again.
Let food be thy medicine, and let thy medicine be food.
~Hippocrates
"I don't want to go," I said, the tears starting to fall again.
"You have no choice," my father replied. "I'll be working long hours all summer and I might even have to do night shifts. You're too young to be left alone. I'm sorry, but there's no alternative. The ticket's booked and you're going."
"No, I'm not," I shouted. "I'm nearly fourteen and I can look after myself."
I rushed upstairs to my room and threw myself on the bed. However, I knew that I wouldn't win this argument. Mom had just died of cancer and Dad had decided to send me to Hungary to spend the summer vacation with her sister. Mom and I had visited her last year, and I had gotten along well with my aunt, but I now was confused and lonely. I missed Mom and I didn't want to go to Hungary on my own.
Three days later, I stood in the departure lounge at London Heathrow airport. I was still thinking of a way to get out of the trip, but deep inside I knew that I had to go. After just a few hours, the plane landed in Budapest. My aunt, Gizi Neni, which is Hungarian for Aunt Gizi, came towards me and gave me a hug. She looked as if she had been crying. I realized that although they hadn't lived in the same country for many years, she had also loved my mother and now missed her.
When we got to her house, Gizi Neni tried to persuade me to eat something, but I wasn't able to face food. I burst into tears, which made her start crying. Her daughter-in-law was visiting, and she too began to cry. She had also been close to my mother. We were three women of different ages, but we were united in grief for a woman who had touched us all deeply. Eventually I went to bed without eating, and I cried myself to sleep.
I woke up late the following morning, having had a restless night. I looked in the mirror and my eyes were puffy from crying. I wanted to hide, but then the wonderful smell of baking wafted into the room. Suddenly, I felt very hungry. I crept into the kitchen, feeling shy and unsure of myself. The room smelt even more extraordinary when I went in. There were plates of cakes and pastries on all the surfaces, and Gizi Neni was busy preparing more. I could hardly believe what I was seeing. My mother loved to cook as well, but I had never seen anything like this before.
"Here, take," Gizi Neni said.
"Thank you," I replied. "It all looks delicious."
Gizi Neni didn't speak much English, and I didn't speak any Hungarian, but it didn't seem to matter. I smiled at her and looked around. This was an amazing breakfast, much better than cereal and toast! I headed straight for a cherry pastry. It was still warm and it was delicious. I could feel my appetite returning. I took another pastry, believing that this was my breakfast. However, while I was eating, Gizi Neni had taken some eggs from the fridge and was scrambling them. Fresh bread appeared, with hunks of cheese and slices of ham. By the time I had finished the meal, I felt completely filled up.
Not surprisingly, my aunt loved to eat. When she was a young woman, she had been extremely slim, but after she married, her love of cooking emerged. She started to eat much more and became very large. Although she was a lawyer and led a busy life, she would still cook with fresh ingredients every day. She always made sure that everybody in the house enjoyed their food and was well fed.
The long, hot days of summer slipped by. Contrary to my expectations, I happily settled into life in Hungary. Friends were often invited to the house, and the days would revolve around meals and entertaining. On the weekends, my aunt would think nothing of serving seven courses for dinner. Gizi Neni made delicious soups and goulashes. Soured cream was poured over her stews, and paprika was used liberally in many of her savory dishes. I developed a taste for paprika that summer and still use it a lot in my cooking today. Gizi Neni's cakes and pastries were always wonderful. As I loved desserts, I had to be careful to pace myself at her marathon dinners so that I would have room for them. One outstanding memory I have involves an enormous plate of doughnuts. Gizi Neni brought them to the table after we had finished dinner one evening. I was already full by this time, but I found room to try one. My aunt had one, then another, and then another. She stopped when she had eaten a total of fourteen!
Since the weather was hot that summer, we would sometimes have barbecues. I remember a friend of my cousin's bringing a deer to cook outside one evening. I can still recall the smells wafting around the garden and into the street. Even though I have been a vegetarian for many years and wouldn't be tempted by these smells anymore, the memories of those barbecues conjure up visions of sultry summer days that I spent with people who cared about me. Eating outdoors was a unique experience as well. Although they are popular now, barbecues weren't common in England when I was a child.
The summer ended all too quickly and I had to go back to school in England. As much as I hadn't wanted to go to Hungary, I now didn't want to return home. My aunt had helped me through the initial difficult stages after Mom died, and I wanted to stay longer with her. However, I was lucky enough to spend every summer after that with Gizi Neni until I was in my early twenties. Although she has been dead for many years now, whenever I think about my aunt, I remember the doughnuts, the pastries, the goulash, and all the other delicious food that she carefully prepared. She gave me so much love and comfort at a time when I needed it, and I will never forget the larger-than-life lady who loved her food and loved me as well.
"No, I'm not," I shouted. "I'm nearly fourteen and I can look after myself."
I rushed upstairs to my room and threw myself on the bed. However, I knew that I wouldn't win this argument. Mom had just died of cancer and Dad had decided to send me to Hungary to spend the summer vacation with her sister. Mom and I had visited her last year, and I had gotten along well with my aunt, but I now was confused and lonely. I missed Mom and I didn't want to go to Hungary on my own.
Three days later, I stood in the departure lounge at London Heathrow airport. I was still thinking of a way to get out of the trip, but deep inside I knew that I had to go. After just a few hours, the plane landed in Budapest. My aunt, Gizi Neni, which is Hungarian for Aunt Gizi, came towards me and gave me a hug. She looked as if she had been crying. I realized that although they hadn't lived in the same country for many years, she had also loved my mother and now missed her.
When we got to her house, Gizi Neni tried to persuade me to eat something, but I wasn't able to face food. I burst into tears, which made her start crying. Her daughter-in-law was visiting, and she too began to cry. She had also been close to my mother. We were three women of different ages, but we were united in grief for a woman who had touched us all deeply. Eventually I went to bed without eating, and I cried myself to sleep.
I woke up late the following morning, having had a restless night. I looked in the mirror and my eyes were puffy from crying. I wanted to hide, but then the wonderful smell of baking wafted into the room. Suddenly, I felt very hungry. I crept into the kitchen, feeling shy and unsure of myself. The room smelt even more extraordinary when I went in. There were plates of cakes and pastries on all the surfaces, and Gizi Neni was busy preparing more. I could hardly believe what I was seeing. My mother loved to cook as well, but I had never seen anything like this before.
"Here, take," Gizi Neni said.
"Thank you," I replied. "It all looks delicious."
Gizi Neni didn't speak much English, and I didn't speak any Hungarian, but it didn't seem to matter. I smiled at her and looked around. This was an amazing breakfast, much better than cereal and toast! I headed straight for a cherry pastry. It was still warm and it was delicious. I could feel my appetite returning. I took another pastry, believing that this was my breakfast. However, while I was eating, Gizi Neni had taken some eggs from the fridge and was scrambling them. Fresh bread appeared, with hunks of cheese and slices of ham. By the time I had finished the meal, I felt completely filled up.
Not surprisingly, my aunt loved to eat. When she was a young woman, she had been extremely slim, but after she married, her love of cooking emerged. She started to eat much more and became very large. Although she was a lawyer and led a busy life, she would still cook with fresh ingredients every day. She always made sure that everybody in the house enjoyed their food and was well fed.
The long, hot days of summer slipped by. Contrary to my expectations, I happily settled into life in Hungary. Friends were often invited to the house, and the days would revolve around meals and entertaining. On the weekends, my aunt would think nothing of serving seven courses for dinner. Gizi Neni made delicious soups and goulashes. Soured cream was poured over her stews, and paprika was used liberally in many of her savory dishes. I developed a taste for paprika that summer and still use it a lot in my cooking today. Gizi Neni's cakes and pastries were always wonderful. As I loved desserts, I had to be careful to pace myself at her marathon dinners so that I would have room for them. One outstanding memory I have involves an enormous plate of doughnuts. Gizi Neni brought them to the table after we had finished dinner one evening. I was already full by this time, but I found room to try one. My aunt had one, then another, and then another. She stopped when she had eaten a total of fourteen!
Since the weather was hot that summer, we would sometimes have barbecues. I remember a friend of my cousin's bringing a deer to cook outside one evening. I can still recall the smells wafting around the garden and into the street. Even though I have been a vegetarian for many years and wouldn't be tempted by these smells anymore, the memories of those barbecues conjure up visions of sultry summer days that I spent with people who cared about me. Eating outdoors was a unique experience as well. Although they are popular now, barbecues weren't common in England when I was a child.
The summer ended all too quickly and I had to go back to school in England. As much as I hadn't wanted to go to Hungary, I now didn't want to return home. My aunt had helped me through the initial difficult stages after Mom died, and I wanted to stay longer with her. However, I was lucky enough to spend every summer after that with Gizi Neni until I was in my early twenties. Although she has been dead for many years now, whenever I think about my aunt, I remember the doughnuts, the pastries, the goulash, and all the other delicious food that she carefully prepared. She gave me so much love and comfort at a time when I needed it, and I will never forget the larger-than-life lady who loved her food and loved me as well.
http://www.chickensoup.com
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