Mushroom Monday

Food makes everything better. There's just no doubt. The two best things in life to lift a person's spirit I've decided have to be food & Melvin. Both offer unconditional love in a non-judgemental, very passive and understanding way. you may judge them - but they are not judging you back with any negative eye, they just want to be doted on and appreciated. Which my Dad does amazingly well. A simple trip to the grocery store after picking my Dad up at CNS turns into a 40 minute amusement-park like adventure. We simply need 3 items: ground beef, sour cream, and Wondra flour. (all to make my Mommy's amazing beef strogonoff, truly my favorite comfort food). So I use these 3 items as a simple memory test - 6 minutes before walking into Vons we talk to Mom on the phone and she tells Dad the 3 ingredients we need. We pull up, we park, I ask him - "now what are we here to get?" "I don't know." Dad says annoyed. no matter - I'm not surprised. we enter the store, and it's immediately and overwhelmingly stimulating.

D: "WOOOWWW look at these apples!!!" me: "yeah pretty huh, we don't really need apples right now though."
I leave Dad to ponder the wracks of pre-chopped vegetables and such while I go collect other produce. There aren't a lot of people in the store, and I've noticed that no matter what, Dad tends to gravitate quite close to whomever tends to be standing there -- I think it's his inherant desire to engage and be social -- as if perhaps he's looking at the same box of pre-chopped red onion, he could strike up a conversation about it and make a new friend.
"Robin! come look at this!" I hear from the other side of the produce area. I walk over, and sort of pull his elbow so he's not standing quite so in the other shopper's personal space. "look at these!!! $2.49!!"
"wow - that's funny, we could chop them ourselves for much cheaper than that!!"

ohhhh why did i say that! i burst his excited bargain bubble! "oh" he says, somewhat defeated, the recognition that they're really just expensive chopped onions starting to make sense. "let's go get the meat" I say, and we move on...

As we make our way through the meat - my eye on the ground beef section - I get about 8 feet ahead of Dad when i hear, "WOWWWW!!! Robin you gotta come see these!!! they're beautiful!!!" I pause, take a deep breath, smile, and go over to him. He's standing in front of the butcher area gazing at all these pre-assembled meat dishes. "CHECK OUT THOSE MUSHROOMS!" "mmmm yes..." I say... as we all know my aversion to the fungus vegetable. and of course immediately - the sweet, hard-working, Vons butcher pipes up, "can I help you with anything?"
Dad: "yeah!!! those look great!!!! what's in em?" Butcher, a little caught off gaurd by Dad's over-the-counter enthusiasm, "It's sausage that we took out of the casing and stuffed into the mushrooms, mixed with some fresh parsley and peppers."
Dad: "We'll take three." he says not skipping a beat, so instantly sold on the indulgent treat.
me: "Dad, well, Mom's making dinner, maybe we should just get one or two to share as an appetizer?" Dad: "but aren't there three of us?" Me: "yes. yeah. okay get 3."

I just smile, and let the transaction occur. Because it's truly beautiful. The excitement those mushrooms gave to my dad, and the sense of accomplishment - that he made the executive decision that we must have these mushrooms tonight, because they are truly special, and even though I don't like them and we're having other food - we must have three, because there are 3 of us - and we all deserve to share in this special treat. It all may sound overexaggerated, but when you look at the core of this interaction - it's really pure and precious.

With the brown sack of stuffed mushrooms in the bag, and our three necessary ingredients, we head home, munching on another impulse purchase of Baked Cheetos on the way. We walk through the door, hugs and greetings to Melvin, then plop down on the couch and watch the Laker game. A bowl of cheetos on the table, and our mushrooms doing their thing in the oven. Dad is 100% engaged in the game. And for a moment, life feels normal again.

Mom gets home an hour later and walks into our kitchen that is filled with the yummy aroma of the sausage stuffed mushrooms, and I tell her about our little adventure at Vons. Then Dad comes in, "ooooh look they're crack--ca-ked on top" he stutters. "they're baked on top you mean?" I say. "yeah. look at 'em." "I think they're done" I say. I grab a hot pad and pull out the mushrooms, Dad's already been sidetracked by the Lakers game and his attention is gone from the fungi. I slice the treat, and put them on a plate. Dad instantly launches in. "Robin, you gotta try these they're amazing." "Annie, you mean." "Annie yes." It's really fine. I stick a toothpick in a mushroom and go for it. "mmmmm...." I notion, and smile at Daddy, a mouthful of mushroom. We share a mutual "oh yeah - we done good" nod of gratification. Then turned back to the Lakers.

And okay, I'll be honest, that was a pretty damn good mushroom.