Yesterday my mother-in-law told me how much she and the rest of the family had worried about me when I first arrived in India (28 years ago now!). I have totally forgotten this, but she said in those early weeks and months, I hardly ate anything, but used to sit eating ice cubes all day long.
I do remember loving ice. I also remember the ancient fridge my in-laws had, always in dire need of defrosting, and how the ice cube trays were just as old-fashioned: they were metal, with a lever you had to pull to release the cubes. Often, my skin would stick to the metal and I would have to run the tray under water to free it.
When we got our first apartment in Delhi we bought a second-hand fridge from a friend. It was small (just a little bigger than the ones our children had in their college dorms!) and it lasted us for over 13 years.
A few months ago, we bought a beautiful new one. It is tall and sleek and charcoal grey. It is frost free and has a separate freezer and I still cannot believe it belongs to us. The freezer is virtually empty, except for ice. I specialize in it. I want to be the neighbor you call if you are having a party and you need more ice for drinks.
Or in case you have a homesick American in your house who is looking for a little comfort food.
2 comments:
Can ice really be considered food?
Food of the Gods, my dear!
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