Expat Blog Challenge--Day Three: An object that makes you think of home....

So I was intending to write about the "stuff we carried with us" in today's blog post.  I interviewed my family at the breakfast table this morning (they're really getting in to this challenge with me--my eldest commented to our carpool "Mommy's a Blogger!" which simultaneously embarrassed me and comforted me through her pride) and many items were offered, but didn't seem to "stick":  My girls' blankies--one crocheted for my firstborn by my best friend and soul-mate, another guarded for posterity by my mother in a closet and handed down to the baby girl; our framed photos, spanning different locales and ages; our sun collection--originating from different Latin American countries, hanging proudly on our wall.

But nothing really passionately stood out.  In fact, I was a bit beleaguered thinking about my incredibly perceptive older daughter's comment upon moving to Bangla (realizing they weren't going through the predicted "culture shock" I surmised they would and the hours I spent reading about "how to cope" with it clearly wasted) as she brightly commented, "You know, Mom, all we really need in life is each other.  Wherever the three of us are, as long as we're together, we'll be fine....." (note cheesy family motto alluded to in blog title...all credits to Mr. Marley).  I've brainwashed them well, friends.  "People are more important than stuff"  (previous comments about stupidly-large shipment notwithstanding).

Then, despite my reaching a veritable dead end, unsolicited inspiration (which seems to stalk me quite often, when I least expect it) was thrust upon me at the break table with my colleagues this morning.  I was minding my own business (and by that I mean nicely-harassing the Head of Secondary about how recruiting was going for next year....primarily in the Drama department, as my mentor and masterful colleague--his wife, funnily enough--is being seduced away from Dhaka by his new and exciting pursuits) with my morning snack in hand.  To my surprise, I quickly became the focus of the conversation and attention as I liberally dolloped peanut butter onto my apple slices.  One of my Kiwi colleagues commented--quizzical expression on face--"What's that you're eating?  Apple and peanut butter?"  I think it's important to note that his nearly identical apple was starkly naked, lacking the yummy velvety peanut butter accompaniment.  I momentarily polled the collected faces at the table--Aussie, Brit, Kiwi, Kiwi, Aussie, Aussie, American, Canadian, Brit, Me.  To my surprise, most of their expressions mirrored the Kiwi....."Reeaallly?" I mused.  "This is pretty 'gold standard' where I come from."  And it is.  The other American confirmed it--and the Canadian concurred.  THEN, I unwittingly livened up the conversation by asking for a carrot stick from Canadian (when the apple was fully consumed but my desire for PB wasn't...) and slathered PB on it.  "Carrots, too?"  they posed.  "Um....yes. And celery, and toast, and innumerable other things made more exciting by Peter Pan creamy honey roast...." I responded, concluding with a wide, commercial smile.  My Kiwi friend offered "You know, I can understand the idea behind the peanut-butter-and-jam sandwich."  Quite honestly, I was jolted by the implication....."can understand the idea behind?  You mean, you've never had a peanut-butter-and-JELLY sandwich?  In. your. life?"  I was immediately corrected by the overwhelming majority as they chorused "jam."

It took me a minute to ponder this.  There I was, inundated by a cultural divide and a moment of introspection.....over perhaps THE most undeniably common lunch pail item of the American picture-perfect childhood (well, not now, thank you very much peanut allergies).  that quasi-palatable stuff on bread.  Negative.  I will not acquiesce to Australian peanut butter, but thank you very much).  Oh, bless their hearts.

See?

I did what any good Southern daughter would do when confronted with a similar situation....I played hostess, and shared :).  A couple of them took me up on my offer...and were converted, I am eager to say.  One Brit even enthusiastically shared that she was going to serve peanut butter sandwiches to her children that very afternoon (good on ya, Gal!).  The rest respectfully abstained.  One even helpfully offered that I could find Australian peanut butter here in Dhaka.  (Well thank you, Miss, but why would I want "Australian" peanut butter if the general population of Australia doesn't understand the unlimited possibilities of the stuff?  Case in point--Aussies squish up vegetables--and God knows what else--and spread

I further blew their minds by sharing the ingredients of my FAVORITE sandwich of ALL-TIME, found at the Harvest Moon Cafe in Rome, GA.  They call it the "ABC" and it consists of "granny smith apples, bacon and sharp cheddar, grilled on honey-oatmeal bread."  It is to die for, and is the perfect mixture of sweet, tangy, salty, and tart all grilled up on warm, home-style slices of deliciousness.  Ahhhhh.  Just when I thought America's contributions to the culinary world paled in comparison.....PSHAW!

It tastes MUCH better than this rather innocent picture leads one to believe....

So, for us, like many people of the South, we think of home through our bellies and require "down home cooking" in frequent measure.  I've already alluded to the importance of Jim Dandy quick grits in our household, and it's followed by highly desired plates such as Southern-fried chicken (my eldest will bedevil me for it for weeks on END), varied casseroles (sweet potato and green-bean varieties ranking high), homemade biscuits (next on the list to master), cornbread (smuggling in the corn meal next--Deshis have corn flour, which is another thing completely).  I even regularly kept a pitcher of sweet tea in my fridge wherever we were, until I recently went under the knife for kidney stones this past October (that'll teach ya).  It's been marginally devastating to have to relinquish nearly my FAVE drink on the planet to the "summer treat only" list.  But, put anything cooked "Southern-style" in our mouths, and we immediately (in our minds at least) find ourselves barefoot in green country grass next to the fishin' pond at my parents' house or sitting on a front porch in a rocking chair somewhere watching the Spanish moss blow through the pine trees.

A sequel to this blog--if I'm to really do it justice--would be to discuss our predilection for Dominican culture and food...our "other" home.  But that's another post altogether, so I'll save that for another day.