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Today was your Daddy's birthday, as I'm sure you know.
I remember one year, Mum and your Uncle A were in Ireland for a visit when your Daddy's twenty first birthday came around.
Your grandfather (whom your cousins called "Granddad") did a great job handling the cooking while your grandmother (aka "Gran") was away; considering Gran had always done all the cooking, this was a big undertaking!
His cooking repertoire was limited; we had potatoes pretty much every night, in one form or another. Granddad didn't care for pasta, and I'm guessing rice was beyond his knowledge base. Your Daddy didn't care much for rice back then anyhow, so he didn't complain about that, but even he got a little bored of potatoes every night, and he *loved* potatoes!!
On your Daddy's birthday that year, since it was just the three of us at home, I was asked to go and get a cake from the bakery. I was fifteen, too young to drive, so I walked to the bakery and home again. (it would have been about as far of a walk as that night we all went down to the pier- remember how Uncle A and I took turns carrying Mr Man's trike home for him?)
Anyhow, unlike this year, it was *really* warm that day, and everything was melting and slushy. I remember getting splashed by a car on my way home, and my biggest worry was that the cake box didn't get wet! (My coat, on the other hand, was a total mess)
I don't remember what else we did that evening, just that it was Spring break, but I do remember that cake ;-)
Showing posts with label Letters to My Nephews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Letters to My Nephews. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Monday, March 4, 2013
A Letter to my nephews
Hey boys,
I have a story about your Daddy that I think you might enjoy.
When we were kids, our parents frequently bought "Neapolitan" ice cream for us to have for desserts.
That's the one with the 'stripe' of chocolate ice cream, a stripe of vanilla in the middle, and then a stripe of strawberry ice cream on the other side. I guess the idea is that you can enjoy three different flavours at once, but personally, I didn't care for it, because you really ended up with vanilla ice cream that tasted like either chocolate or strawberry ice cream (or worse, both at once!), or strawberry ice cream that tasted like chocolate (how that happened, I was never sure, the two colours/flavours never even touched- weird, hey?).
Anyhow. Just like they are chez vous, food packages here are bilingual- generally having French on one side, English on the other.
On the French side of the carton, "Neapolitan" was "Napolitaine".
One evening your Daddy was looking at the carton (it was the French side, but he likely hadn't noticed that), and asked if we could have some "Napoleon ice cream" for dessert ...
Needless to say, we all giggled, especially your Granddad. But your Daddy was never one to admit he'd made a mistake for something like that, so he persisted in calling it "Napoleon ice cream", even pointing out the words to a song we'd learned in school (at least, as he'd heard them ...)
"Napolitaine avec cinq cents soldats ..." (I'm fairly certain it would have actually been "Napoleon avec cinq cents soldats", but there was no arguing details like that with your Daddy!).
I guess you could say your Daddy's persistence paid off, as "Napoleon Ice Cream" became the family name for that particular flavour- in fact, I still want to say it whenever I see a carton of it in the grocery store!
So, next time Mummy's going shopping, ask her to pick up some Napoleon Ice Cream for you guys to try, 'k? And let me know if you concur about the blending of the flavours, too (concur is another way to say "agree", btw).
Love you both,
Your Auntie
I have a story about your Daddy that I think you might enjoy.
When we were kids, our parents frequently bought "Neapolitan" ice cream for us to have for desserts.
That's the one with the 'stripe' of chocolate ice cream, a stripe of vanilla in the middle, and then a stripe of strawberry ice cream on the other side. I guess the idea is that you can enjoy three different flavours at once, but personally, I didn't care for it, because you really ended up with vanilla ice cream that tasted like either chocolate or strawberry ice cream (or worse, both at once!), or strawberry ice cream that tasted like chocolate (how that happened, I was never sure, the two colours/flavours never even touched- weird, hey?).
Anyhow. Just like they are chez vous, food packages here are bilingual- generally having French on one side, English on the other.
On the French side of the carton, "Neapolitan" was "Napolitaine".
One evening your Daddy was looking at the carton (it was the French side, but he likely hadn't noticed that), and asked if we could have some "Napoleon ice cream" for dessert ...
Needless to say, we all giggled, especially your Granddad. But your Daddy was never one to admit he'd made a mistake for something like that, so he persisted in calling it "Napoleon ice cream", even pointing out the words to a song we'd learned in school (at least, as he'd heard them ...)
"Napolitaine avec cinq cents soldats ..." (I'm fairly certain it would have actually been "Napoleon avec cinq cents soldats", but there was no arguing details like that with your Daddy!).
I guess you could say your Daddy's persistence paid off, as "Napoleon Ice Cream" became the family name for that particular flavour- in fact, I still want to say it whenever I see a carton of it in the grocery store!
So, next time Mummy's going shopping, ask her to pick up some Napoleon Ice Cream for you guys to try, 'k? And let me know if you concur about the blending of the flavours, too (concur is another way to say "agree", btw).
Love you both,
Your Auntie
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