Reminiscing

On Friday, people at work were talking about different culture’s cooking and their effects on American nostrils.  My boss, who is married to a Marine, said they had lived at one point of his deployment next to an Indian family. They would have the occasional large gathering and the smell of the curry powder when they were cooking was astounding and overpowering. She said the food, which they shared, was amazing though.

Reggie, one of our Help Desk guys, used to live next to an Arab family with a similar story as far as the aroma goes. He said they would bring over a platter of food, and share it with him. But, he always wondered why he couldn’t get his own plate or eating utensils.

So, I brought up my own story: Fran and I lived in an apartment building next to the cleaners I worked at as a delivery body (my brother Joe “willed” me the job when he left for the Army). We shared the second floor with a Mexican family. And they apparently bought a sack of dried beans every week. They would soak them and then boil them for hours, making refried beans. The smell premeditated the whole building.

It was years (YEARS) before I could eat refried beans, although I love them, now.