Conversations In the Kitchen

Sitting at the table was Baba (Grandma) Valya and Ded (Grandpa) Sasha. I sat and joined them for butterbrods, or what we might think of as open-faced sandwiches. Today it would be with liver pâté and copious amounts of butter. She'd made some mint and linden tea and set it on the table as she usually does.

I started the conversation: "Do you remember when you pointed at the sugar and said, 'white death' (белая смерть), and then did the same with the salt, and then you did this:?" I made the motion of scooping two heaping spoonfuls of sugar into one's tea. She laughed and answered affirmatively. She went on to explain to Sasha what I was referring to. Sasha then reached for the "white death" and began shoveling spoonfuls into his mug as Valya carefully watched and counted, "one... two... two and a half". Sometimes Valya will watch me cautiously as she adds sugar to her tea as if I were judging her. This is a running joke that we have. Sometimes she will ask me for permission to add sugar to her tea. And with a grin I reply, "нет"

Valya asked if I would have a butterbrod. I said that I would. So she portioned off some slices of the liver pâté onto a plate. I spread some butter on a slice of black bread. It reminded me of my surprise at how much butter Ukrainians like to put on their bread when I first got here. "How much butter do you use in America?", she asked. I scraped off the excessive butter from my slice of bread and showed them. They looked in disbelief. I said, "Now look at me. I don't spread butter like I used to. I put slices of butter on my bread."

Valya drew my attention to Sasha who was peculiarly spreading the pâté on his slice of bread. "He's already on his fifth slice." I drank my tea and went back to my room.