As a chef himself, he understood how precise cooking stages were.By this point in their lives and marriage, it would stand to reason that Batya knew the stages of Abe’s smoking process as well as Abe did, and more specifically what Abe needed at that stage.He could understand the fact that if Abe needed company at a particular stage…and wanted specifically to talk to Naomi, it would be critical to get her back there as soon as he and Naomi had arrived at the house.
Which left him and Batya.
But that, he decided as he poured himself a glass of water, was just an externality: a leftover from the need to get Naomi to Abe and quickly.
Of course, that was when he heard footsteps.“Sorry,” Batya said as she entered the kitchen, noting what seemed to be approval at his drink choice.“The process is such that I needed to get her out there quickly.I apologize for being rude.”
Jason shook his head; just as he’d suspected.“I’m a chef.I get it.I know cooking times and processes.He’s smoking back there?”
Batya nodded, slightly more relieved.“Yep.And he always wants someone back there to keep him company; it feels strange to him to do it by himself when we’ve got company or when he’s just…when it’s just us.And so tonight he wanted to talk to your…Naomi.”
Which meant the conversation he’d had with Artur that morning had, in fact, been recounted from Artur to Batya and Abe.Most likely, a warning was attached about using certain words around him that corresponded to the threat he’d issued at the coffee shop earlier in the day.“Aaah,” he replied.“I understand.”
Batya nodded.“There were a few things he wanted to say to her, so I figured I’d facilitate that.But also, I really wanted to talk to you.”
He raised an eyebrow.
So not just a random externality.
Hokay.
“Me?”he said, bracing himself for whatever was coming his way.Because knowing the way his life had been going, it could be anything, really.“I’m really not that interesting.”
“You’re a member of the Michigan branch of the Greenblatts?”she replied, sounding matter-of-fact in a way that made him…nervous.“That makes you interesting.”
“That it does,” he said with a smile.For whatever reason, that particular fact about him fascinated people.At least the ones in New York.“My dad’s grandfather went to Michigan to seek his own fortune after coming to the US and staying with the New York family for a while.He found a community and a life, and the family moved from Ann Arbor and flourished in the Grand Rapids area.”
“Oh, that’s lovely,” she said.“But what I want to really know, which is probably the question most people want to know, is what’s the story between this generation of your family and the branch of the family who owns Greenblatt’s NY?”
And of course, there it was.The core of the conversation standing out in full focus, the story that ignited the interest of the tabloid papers when he was doing his series of internships.
Did he want to tell it?Talk about it on a night like this?
But he had to consider that this was his way of smoothing pages and paths, creating safe channels of information so that when he had to talk about it to people who had reason to disbelieve his words, he’d be ready.
He shrugged.“It’s something that happens way too often with families, you know?”he said, half waiting for a response and half not.“Especially ones that devote years to a family business.Sometimes there are obstacles that arise when the older generation is ready to pass it down; either nobody wants it, or there isn’t anybody capable of taking it over.In this case, there was the former—nobody in the direct lineage of the New York family wanted it.”
“Oh wow,” she said.“And that led them to Michigan?”
“Eventually,” he said.“They needed someone to take over, so after not finding anybody locally, they searched the family tree…and ended up in Michigan with my father.”
“Is your father in the food business?”
Jason shook his head; this was starting to feel like an interview.But it didn’t matter so much.“My father is absolutely not in the food business.He’s in real estate and kinda thrilled about it.But my father had my older brother.And I don’t think there’s anything in this world that my brother wanted more.”
Batya raised an eyebrow.“Really?I read he went to culinary school.In…France.”
Jason nodded, thinking of his older brother.“I think people like my brother spend their lives, searching for ways to go home, you know?”
Batya nodded, leaning on the counter.“I’ve heard that once or twice about people.But what do you mean by it in relation to your brother?I’m curious.”
That was easy.“Steven has been studying as many cooking techniques as he could, learning how to cook many types of food.Which has both expanded his palate and his knowledge base.”
“I see that,” she said.“But then?”
“Well,” Jason continued, “all of that study, all of that learning has given him this perspective on Ashkenazi food, the food we grew up on.How the different dishes were influenced by the neighboring cuisine—the same way Yiddish was developed, and that philosophy of making something out of nothing, you know?So, when he comes back to it, it’s different, it’s…made with his whole heart.”
Batya paused, as if she was digesting the words he was saying.“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that perspective before,” she finally replied.“I mean there’s people who talk about ‘elevating’ the cuisine, but that’s not that, right?”
