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I'm thinking about participating in NaBloPoMo, short for National Blog Posting Month, where you write a post for every day in November. It's a pretty cool idea, despite the near-impossible-to-pronounce name. I'm not sure I can come up with 30 days' worth of stuff to post about, but I sure would like to get back into the habit of blogging more often, and maybe this will help. What do you guys think? (And maybe you can do it, too!)
One of the best memories from my trip back to Atlanta in August centers around dessert.
Earlier in the week, my family had talked about going to Suno, a shaved ice/dessert shop over by the Super H-Mart near Gwinnett Mall. (Shaved ice is an Asian dessert that is kind of like a snow-cone, except that the ice used has a much finer texture, and it's topped with a variety of fruit/bean/other toppings instead of being flavored with artificial syrup.) It would be an opportunity for some family time together, and we planned to go Wednesday night, which would have allowed us to take advantage of their weekly half-off special.
But as so often happens, other stuff came up, and I made plans to go out to dinner with some high school friends Wednesday night. My family was still sold on the idea of getting shaved ice, though, so instead of us going to Suno and eating there, I volunteered to stop by Suno on my way back from dinner. My sister was dubious: "Do you think you can get it home without it melting?" she asked me. "Of course," my mom and I said. So that was it -- I even brought a cooler with me when I headed downtown that evening, so that I would have something to put the ice in later that night.
Dinner with friends was nice: we went to Six Feet Under, and spent an evening catching up and eating good food. After dinner we stood around outside, talking and laughing until it got dark. Then we headed back to Andy's house, where my car was parked, and he invited us in -- but by that time it was getting late, so I apologetically bid goodbye and said that my family was expecting me.
When I left Andy's place it was already past ten; Suno closes at 11. I looked at my watch, calculated how long it would take me to drive from south downtown Atlanta all the way up I-85 to Gwinnett Mall, and called my sister. "I'm just leaving Andy's house," I reported, "and I think I can make it to Suno before it closes."
"Yay, good!" she said. "Give me a call once you get there, and I'll tell you what flavors to get. Oh!" she added, "Debbie [our cousin] and Uncle stopped by to visit. You should get five orders of ice so they can have some, too."
So I sped anxiously up 85, checking the clock the entire way, and pulled into the Suno parking lot with just ten minutes until 11. I called Christine to ask about flavors: "Just get whatever you think is best," she said, "I trust your judgment." I hung up, breathless and mildly exasperated, but felt a little relieved when I entered the small shop. Despite the late hour, there were still plenty of customers there. I got in line, grabbed a menu, and perused my options while waiting my turn.
The family in front of me took a long time to order, enough for Christine to call me again. "You're STILL in line?!" she asked. "You better hurry up. Debbie and Uncle are tired and want to go home soon."
By the time it was my turn, I had decided to order only four buckets of ice (after seeing their size), and I had my toppings all picked out: fruit for one, traditional asian bean toppings for two, and a random assortment of unmatched toppings for the last one. They ran out of two of toppings I wanted, but the older man who was manning the cashier helpfully suggested some replacements for me. I tipped him a dollar to say thanks, and asked him if I could get everything to go. "Of course," he said. "Please sit down. We will call you when your order is ready."
So I waited another ten minutes, watching people enjoy their own desserts. Christine called again: "You're still there?! Debbie and Uncle left."
"Well, it's a good thing I only ordered four shaved ices, then," I retorted, feeling somewhat disappointed. My order was almost ready, so I hung up and said I'd be home soon. Out at my car, I moved the cooler up to the front seat, and discovered that four buckets of ice fit in it perfectly, which for some reason delighted me more than it should have. Then I zoomed home as fast as I could, keeping one eye on my speedometer and one eye out for cops, tapping the pedal impatiently at every red light.
By the time I arrived home, 25 minutes later, I was a nervous wreck from all the rushing -- rushing to get to Suno before it closed, rushing again to get the ice home. As soon as I came in the house, I exploded, "HEY FAMILY! Come eat this ice before it melts!" In a few minutes, we were all gathered around the dining room table, me complaining good-naturedly about all the trouble I went to, and my family shaking their heads at my unnecessary uptightness.
The ice, surprisingly, was hardly melted at all. We spent the next hour with spoons in hand, passing around the different flavors, gorging ourselves silly (and really, it was about all we could do to eat all four buckets). We talked about the mundane things you talk about when you're all sitting at the table together, and for some reason, it all felt very gratifying. The combination of dessert and family -- it was just a delicious, comforting end to the night.
A couple months ago I ate the best peach ever, brought home on an impulse buy from the local market in the peak of late summer ripeness. It was sweet and juicy, and its flesh was the perfect degree of squishy-ness without being overripe or mealy. It was so good. Since that perfect peach, I've tried at least three more times to find a batch as good (my last attempt was just a couple of days ago), without success.
What does the peach have to do with anything? Well, it's about that time of year when I need to start looking for airfare back home to Atlanta for the holidays. And almost every time I think of Atlanta, I'm reminded of that shaved ice night. I get excited because I think, "Maybe this time, we can go get shaved ice again, as a family!" But at the same time, I'm sort of hesitant to reproduce the experience, because... I'm afraid it won't be as good the second time around.
Plus, it'll be the middle of winter. I have a feeling that shaved ice is not quite as good when it's 40 degrees outside.