There’s a tradition where Jews go out to Chinese food and a movie on Christmas. I don’t remember my family doing the Chinese food much, but we did go to movies sometimes. The last time we tried it, though, the theater was so packed we barely got in. I’m pretty sure there aren’t that many Jews in Evanston.
Shama told me how she liked to drive around downtown late at night on Christmas because it was totally deserted, so this Christmas Eve, around midnight, Shama and I drove down to Northerly Island and the Planetarium. It was snowing, silent, completely empty, and beautiful. Plus, we could just drive up and park wherever we wanted, which was kind of wild.
Quite early on in the wedding planning, Shama thought up the idea to use apple baskets as centerpieces for our wedding. Turns out she doesn’t like flowers so much. Good to know.
While we were buying apples, we saw some bags of oranges and we thought they’d be nice to add more color to the centerpieces.
We got numerous comments during and after the wedding about how much people liked the “apples and oranges” concept for the centerpieces. Most saw it as representing two very different cultures coming together. It was really nice. I wish we had thought of it. Really, we just thought they were pretty.
And so it’s been with our relationship in general. A lot of people like to read something noble and important into a Muslim and Jew getting married. Someone once (albeit jokingly) told me, “the future of the world rests on your shoulders.” I’m glad people think we’re doing something good, but it really never occurred to me or Shama that our relationship had some larger purpose. I just thought she was pretty.
Shama and I drove to the mountains of North Carolina to get away after getting married. We did some hiking and reading and played lots of games and did a lot of the nothing we weren’t able to do in the weeks leading up to the wedding.
I suggested we go to a fancy restaurant one night and Shama said we should make it a whole high society day.
Evan: What’s a high society day?
Shama: We’ll go horesback riding and then before dinner we can go into town and buy a trinket or bauble just because it’s pretty.
So we went horseback riding, although it was probably a little more “rancher” than “high society.” And we went into the town of Marshall, North Carolina (pop. 840) to look around. I don’t think either of us were planning to get any sort of trinket or bauble, but we went into the Arts Center on Main Street and saw a painting we both really liked. It’s title: “Bauble Tree.”
Having a Jewish/Desi wedding can be complicated at times. Shama’s been trying to get some Indian fabric and other accoutrements on Devon, Chicago’s Indian district, but once the shop-ladies find out it’s for a non-traditional wedding, they become much less helpful. One lady told her there was no shop that would sell her what she wanted.
Undeterred (okay, slightly deterred) Shama decided to be awesome.
She got a clipboard, put her hair in a pony tail, wore her glasses and went back to the same shops.
Shama: I’m a student at Columbia College and I’m the art director for a student film we’re entering in an international film contest. It’s a Bollywood style film and I need to dress several characters including the villain, the pushy aunt, and the bride. Today I’m trying to find pieces for the bride character. Oh, and we’re on a budget.
I got a text message from her that afternoon:
This ruse is working frighteningly well.
Sometimes she’d send photos to her “director” (i.e. maid of honor) for approval.
She was happy to get what she was looking for, but felt a little guilty about having to be deceptive to get what she wanted. Perhaps it’s a good question for The Ethicist.
I asked my brother Aric if he’d play some accordion music at our wedding.
He said of course, (of course) but that he’d first need to get a new accordion. His old one, purchased off of eBay for $50, had finally bit the dust.
Being the good brother that he is, Aric went and got a new accordion right away. It’s used and needs a little work, so while he was at the store he asked where he could get it fixed up. He was told there are three people in Chicago who could do it. Just three. The conversation isn’t exact, but this is the gist of it.
Accordion Salesman: The first can be a little difficult to work with. Sometimes he sees an accordion he doesn’t like and decides it’s not worth his time. I can call first and feel him out if you like.
Aric: What about the others?
Accordion Salesman: Well, this other guy can be a bit flaky, and he’s not as good as the other two.
Aric: So what about the third one?
Accordion Salesman: Oh, he does great work… but… well… he does sometimes steal accordions. If you get it back it will sound great, though.
Aric: So, you’re referring me to a thief?
Accordion Salesman: Let me talk to the first guy and see what he says.
If you need an accordion repaired in Chicago, those are your choices.
UPDATE: Aric took it to the first guy and he did indeed decide that the accordion wasn’t worth fixing. The good news is he told the store they had to give him a refund for it. The better news is he somehow came across another accordion and told Aric that he should buy it.
Well, at least I have threePiefestschronicled on this website. It’s too bad the others are lost to the archives. What with planning a wedding a month later and all, there was some question whether there would be a Piefest at all this year, but boy am I glad we did it. We had a perfect day and perfect people and some great pies.
Here’s the rundown with photos courtesy of John Berube, one of the greatest pie photographers this country has ever seen. Hopefully he doesn’t mind me bogarting his photos
Best Presentation ~ Potato Ricotta & Onion Rustic Pie Shanna Berube has a history of making amazing food that John photographs and I look at online and want to eat, so I can’t say it’s surprising that they won this award. Presentation aside, it was also wicked tasty.
Maybe it’s because I finally got around to seeing Emmet Otter’s Jug Band Christmas (Thanks, Trevor), but I’ve had otters on my mind lately. Silly otters.
Unable to pry them loose, I ended up painting my brother and his girlfriend otters for hanukah. Here they are:
Looking at them together, the colors are a little early nineties. I almost expect Fido Dido to make an appearance. Ah well. Here’s Emmet:
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One of my grandmother’s oldest friends, Clara, moved to Durham a few years ago to be closer to her daughter. I’ve known Clara as long as I can remember, and my grandmother has known her longer than that. We used to go over to her house to break the fast after Yom Kippur with a big vat of borscht.
Since we were going to be in North Carolina for Thanksgiving, Clara’s daughter and my mom arranged for the two of them to meet up in Asheville. I can’t remember seeing my grandma happier. (“I didn’t think I’d ever see her again.”)
GRAM: Clara, you look great! CLARA: You look great! GRAM: Good! We’re both lying!
There is a long list of things I don’t understand about Christmas. (What’s Myrrh?) Add to that list the creepy robots currently residing in the Marshall Fields windows. Goo!
Shama and I went to visit my grandparents at their new place last week. Most nights they have some sort of event, and this night was no exception: It was the coronation ceremony for the king and queen. I’m not sure what criteria is involved in selecting a king and queen, but they were both over 100 years old. We met the king, but never saw the queen.
Now, when most people do the hora they rock the concentric circles and maybe some of those arm spins, but my grandma always wants to do this dance where people go through people’s arms and then get tangled up and put arms on shoulders and form lines and, well, it’s very complicated. No one ever gets it right to her satisfaction — including those of us at Lincolnwood Place last week. At one point, years ago, after failing to teach it to several of her grandchildren, she muttered, “that’s why none of you are married!”
Well, guess what, Gram, I know how to do it now. Next hora, you’re gonna see some skills.
Once I actually took the time to call a bunch of companies, asking them not to send me catalogs anymore. Since then, they’ve somehow managed to sneak back in. (I’m looking at you, Guitar Center.) The only mail that ever interests me is wedding invitations and Netflix. The rest just piles up on a table by the front door until I eventually throw it all away.
Shama suggested that maybe if that table weren’t there I’d just throw it away immediately instead of letting it accumulate. It seemed like a good idea, so we moved the table into the dining room.
Unfortunately, further testing disproved her theory:
A few weeks later she suggested that “maybe we should move your pile table back”
I worked on a little mini-game for YouTube called “Vidicule” that’s on their home page today — and today only. Still, more people will probably see our game on YouTube’s homepage in one day than will see our games that have been up for years. The Internet’s funny that way.
Perhaps after playing the game you should go visit one of the web’s moreobscuresites.
If you don’t know where to find YouTube’s homepage, first of all, REALLY? It’s the #4 site on the Internet! Second of all, it’s here: http://www.youtube.com/.
Another year, another fabulous Piefest. It’s been years since I’ve won an award, so I was pleased that my inside-out pie managed to win for Best Misc. Pie. Steve’s Tomato pie was a resounding winner in both the Savory and Best in Show categories.
So go ahead and take a look. Let the drooling begin.
