Romancing Phyllis-04 story is Page 4 of 10. It continues my story of how I learned about my parents young years of Romancing.
I'm relieved to get to Mom’s. She's a Master Chef of the endless variety of our unique traditional specialty cultural recipes that she honed to loving perfection. We always enjoy her excellent big feeds together.
X’aisla Rainforest, Kitamaat, Canada
Turtle Island, Mother Earth, Milky Way
Continued from Romancing Phyllis 03
Another hour and I pull into Mom’s gravel driveway. I get out and stretch, then walk to the back of her 2-storey home. I head up the steep flight of thirteen steps that ends at the top of her small back porch. I’m halfway up the stairwell when Mom pokes her pure white head out, then steps out of her back door.
The wondrous smell of magical promise of our traditional food wafts past her to greet me. With a big smile on her beautiful brown shiny face she says, “Oh! I’m so glad you’re here.” We share a big hug.
"Thanks Mom," I say, as relief slides over me.
She pulls away and looks at me intently, “Will you spend the night?”
“Sure! That sounds real good . Thanks Mom,”
“Come on, come on! Sit down!” she says pulling me by my hand into her kitchen.
I take off my shoes and put them into the hallway closet. I go back to the kitchen and sit at her small table in her nook area that's just inside the back door. The table is set for two.
A big red potato in baked-to-crunchy skin is on each dinner plate. Beside each plate is a small salad bowl filled to overflowing with her garden produce. In the middle of the table is a ceramic cast-iron pot that's blood-red on the outside and pure white on the inside. It's filled to the brim with two piles of half-smoked salmon with grilled crunchy skin; it's triple-stacked! Another identical pot is filled with steaming hot salted fish bellies. A coffee mug is filled with steaming hot salmon juice. Triple YUM!
I ask, “Isn’t Dad going to eat with us?”
“No, no…he wants steak. He said we’ve been eating fish three times a day since last year. He wants a break. So, he’s in the back yard barbequing. He said you’d be hungry so we’re not to wait for him. He’ll come in when his steak is burnt black to a perfection just the way he likes it!” she says in a sarcastic tone. We laugh. She knows that's the only way I’ll eat a small bit of it too. And only if I really have to...
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