Grapeleaves

Standing at the kitchen counter trying to open this darn old bottle of cured grape leaves I flash back about forty-five years ago and it almost seems like yesterday.  My Grandpa was from the isle of Crete, coming from a village high in the mountains...as tough as nails and yet the gentlest man I've ever met.

"Nick" came to this country at age 16..and when war broke out he joined the army at 17...of course, he was sent back to Europe with the cassons.  He never spoke greatly about the war years, just kept everything in.  He met and married my grandmom, a South Carolina belle, started a family and enjoyed an American way of life.

He was an excellent chef....no one ever went hungry in his house.  My grandparents house was the focal point of the family, all our vacations, holidays were spent there, drawing all fractions of the family like a magnet every year.

For some reason Grandpa decided to teach me how to cook and I will forever be grateful that he did.  One of my first lessons was making "grape leaves" filled with chopmeat, rice & cumin..rolled just so - so, add water, lemon juice and wait for the aroma to fill the kitchen.  Forty-five years later my husband is grateful that I'm a good cook and it's all due to someone that he never had a chance to meet.

It's funny, standing and rolling the leaves makes me feel a compelling connection to my past, I can hear "Nick" say "Don't forget to pinch the stem off if it looks tough" followed by "that's right..you are doing a good job".  Anyway I know that I learned the right things sitting at his kitchen table.

My Grandad & Grandmom used to "battle" with one another, playfully it would seem.  Grans would say "Nick!" What is that man doing now?"  Grandpa would counter with"Lee! What are you going on about?" "I'm just cooking"...then either side would enlist myself or one of my sisters to "tell" Nick this and he would do the same, as if they couldn't hear what each other was saying.  It was hilarious.

Oh, boy when everyone came for dinner the dinning room table creaked & groaned under the weight of the repast that Papoo would present to us mere mortals.  Grandma was allowed to set the table, with us helping, fix real ice tea and help bring the food in.....everything else was pure Grandpa.

Every time we would be leaving..they would be on the porch waving goodbye and Grandma saying "You'all come on back now yahear".

I spent almost every summer with them in Norfolk, loving the southern night air, humming birds and pink trees...but most of all them.