Comfort food

Armenians are all about the food, constantly trying to make dishes to impress and feed the family, stuff everyone to the gills and then say "I hope you liked it. I think it needed a little something". My mom was no exception. Everyone who came over was fed whether they wanted food or not, and most were happy to oblige. 

Mom was not the natural cook in our family, that position was held by my dad and eventually me, but mom learned a few key dishes and slowly expanded her repertoire after moving out of Iran. We had a nanny back home and she did all the cooking, and mom was a big shot career gal! Over the years, she became not only a good cook, but a great baker both with Persian cuisine and experimenting with different dishes. 

Her trusty Iranian cookbook was the bible for all traditional dishes and sweets. She also learned from her mom, my paternal grandmother and Mrs. Rozik, her in-laws on her brother's side. Her Roulette, which was Mrs Rozik's recipe was the envy of many friends and family members and gradually became our birthday cake/ special occasion request. I now have her recipe box, filled with cue cards with her neat Armenian handwriting on each card. I treasure this discolored metal box, an will soon start cooking the recipes from it.

My mom had her standards; Dolma (vine leaves stuffed with a rice and meat mixture), Karmir Plav (red rice), kookoo, (a quiche with herbs), cutlets, plum stew or green bean stew- my faves!!, and okra curry, my least fave but my sisters #1 choice, Ab Goosht- her own favourite, a soup made with beef and beans and as well as a number of other dishes. 

She would make certain we always had the ingredients for our favourite stews when one of us would come home from a vacation and later when we had our own homes, back for a Sunday meal. These foods comforted us and when she eventually stopped cooking, I grieved the loss of that tradition and the comfort foods in my own way- especially the roulette! 

When my sister came home for mom's move, I made sure I made a nice dinner; Baghali polo (rice with fava beans, dill and chicken) for my sister when she got here. Now with mom in the home, eating geriatric tasteless food, all I can think of is what I'll make her. I don't know if food has the same meaning to her any more; does she remember those dishes? Would she like to eat them again? There's only one way to know. 

Khenzor, my vines are perfect now. I'll follow your recipe for Dolma and make you a pot next week, after this crazy arts fair is over, and as soon as winter comes, I'll cook you Ab Goosht and make sure to mash the meat for you, just like you used to like. It may give me more comfort to make it for you, than for you to eat it, but that's ok- it would be my pleasure either way.