flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread
So I was at my parents’ house, taking advantage of their washing machine and cable and adorable kitties and watching the cooking channel with my dad, because that is a thing we both love, and this new cooking show came on. And it stars Mo Rocca! And grandmas! Basically, one of my beloved NPR personalities has a show where he goes around asking various grandmas to teach him to cook things. I LURVE it.
God, I’m old.
Anyway, the second episode we watched featured a Polish Jewish grandma teaching him to make kreplach and brisket and, most importantly, gefilte fish, which started with her taking him into the bathroom, where a carp was swimming around in the tub, just like in the book I read when I was little!
They did not, in fact, kill that carp — the grandma in question buys her fish at the market pre-killed nowadays. It was just a visual aid to explain how she made gefilte fish when she was a girl. Still, fish in the tub!
This was also when my father tried to convince me that turbriskefil was a thing, because apparently I missed that episode of ‘The Big Bang Theory’.
Don’t worry — I will never make or eat turbriskefil, and I’m pretty sure Neurotic Owl will never kill that fishy.