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chekhov's grandmother's meal that fixes everything

I was bored, so decided to remake a meme, enjoy:

#checkhov #majorplay

Herring a la checkhov ( Russia )

ingredienti e dosi - 2 large salted or brined whole herrings 2 cup milk 2 large onions 1 can (250 gr, or 7 oz) Dijon Honey mustard 7 oz, or 250 gr cornichons 1 bunch dill 4/6 oz (120/170 gr) vegetable oil

_ fate cosi _

Clean the fish: remove skin, fins, bones, and innards. Cut the fillets into a bit-size slices. Note: If herring is too salt, soak it in the milk, or in water for 2 hours or more. The, drain out, and set aside.Peel the onions, and slice onions into thin rounds. Slice the cornichons into thin rounds.Open a can of Dijon honey mustart. Chop the dill thinly.Put the layers of slices onions and sliced cornichons on a bottom, and sprinkle well with the mustard.Put the layer of herring over them, and sprinkle with the dill. Cover with the layer of onions, and continue in the same order until you run out of ingredients. Top layer should be from onion and dill. Punch all layer from top to bottom with a wooden skewer, and pour the purified oil slowly: all layers should be oiled.Top should be covered with oil. Cover the dish with a lid, and place in a refrigerator for about 2 days. Then, appetizer is ready to eat,just let oil to drip off.

#herring #checkhov #russia #russie

Herring a la checkhov ( Russia )

_ fate cosi _

#russia #herring #checkhov

Grand Opening, Grand Closing

You ever feel like you’re lost in a place that’s supposed to be home? Like you can spend minutes...hours...days driving in circles, trying to get a sense of direction? Gas running out. No cell service or payphone change to ask for help. Then suddenly a stranger appears at your fateful fork-in-the-road to tell you you’ve already arrived at your destination -- that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. The fear you felt before was simply a silly dream. A figment of your imagination.

Rory Gilmore was my stranger.

Her becoming my friend was the co-signing the rest of Stars Hollow needed to stop treating me like a leper. Lizzie’s family took me off their public enemy list, and I made snack money babysitting her on Saturday nights.

Even Taylor Doose held back his curmudgeon tendencies around me. Once I even caught him looking bored instead of his usual angry while he bagged my groceries.

My afternoons were spent between Lorelai’s inn, Luke’s diner, and -- on the rare occasion her strict parents were out -- Lane’s. Her bedroom was more tricked out than a stash house in. In her secret hiding spots were deep cuts of records I’d never heard of before. Not to mention her extensive film bootlegs that my mans at the barbershop would envy.

When people saw me, four-eyed and bushy-haired, and Rory, doe-eyed with a basic blowout, walking together around town, they must’ve thought we were a Y2K generation Odd Couple. And I guess it would seem odd that a girl who’s ancestors came over on the Mayflower started hanging out with a girl whose ancestors were probably owned by the Mayflower folks, but somehow things clicked between Rory and me.

We both were hungry for the world outside our little bubbles, walls that couldn’t hold us in. We wanted to travel and conquer things we didn’t yet know existed.

There was also the fact that we were both being raised by single mothers. We traded horror stories about missed visitations and phone calls. We had a game called “What’s The Biggest Apology Gift Our Deadbeat Dad’s Have Ever Bought Us?” Rory had me beat probably because her dad also came from money. I guess if your dad’s gonna be AWOL, it helps if he’s rich.

Yes, it seemed we were two peas in a pods.

Then one day I walked into Luke’s and saw a strange sight: All of the diners were wearing pins that said “Team Lorelai.” Well not everyone. A handful of people were “Team Max.”

I waved Jess over to get the 411. “What’s with the pins?” I asked.

“If you have to ask, you’ll never know,” he replied.

“Stop with the BS.”

He sighed. Rolled his eyes. Classic Jess stalling.

Finally he said, “You know Lorelai was dating one of Rory’s teachers?”

“She may have mentioned it.”

“He proposed. She said yes, but like most things with Lorelai, she changed her mind.”

I tapped the counter, impatient. “So what does this have to do with the town?”

Jess covered a laugh with his sleeve. “Everything,” he said. “You don’t mess with the Lorelais.”

He started laughing again, and I hurried off with my coffee.

I decided to track down Rory to see how she was enduring the craziness. I found her sitting by the lake, feet dangling over the edge of the bridge. A book in her hands.

“Hey Rory,” I called out to her. “How are you holding up?”

She looked up from her book. “Good. Just reading Chekhov. Uncle Vanya.”

I sat down beside her. “Interesting way to keep your mind off from the Stars Hollow madness.”

“What are you talking about?” Rory said.

“You know, the pins,” I said. “Team Lorelai. Team Max.”

“Oh that,” she said. “Just the town going a bit overboard with their love.” She returned to her book.

I scrunched up my face. “That’s not love. That’s obsession.”

Rory snapped Chekhov shut. “They’re just showing their support.”

“And they support everyone like that?”

“It’s different,” she said.

“How? At the minimum, it’s weird. Max, it’s narcissistic.”

“So you’re saying my mom’s a narcissist? Great. All the thanks I get for trying to make you feel welcomed you.”

I tensed up. Was her friendship just an act?

“So us hanging out was just a charity act for you?”

Rory’s face turned beet red. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But you said it,” I said. “Where I’m from, we own our words.”

“But you’re in Stars Hollow now. What is it with you people and wanting the world to bend to you?

A hiss escaped my lips. “You. People”

Rory’s eyes widened. “I didn’t…”

Before she could finish, I pushed Miss Lorelai Gilmore II into the water. Rory’s book tumbled in with her, the pages floating on the lake top and extending Vanya’s rest.

She could give her apology to the fish.

#khadijahshollow #grandopening #grandclosing #the lorelais #Checkhov