Mishpacha, Rodzina, Family: Exhibitionism at Its Finest

Although this blog is technically devoted to the "enkindling essences" of Poland (as indicated by the flowery description in the left hand column), I've already deviated from the subject on one occasion by writing "London Haikus" in the wee hours of a chilly day in November. Hence, I see no reason why I should deprive my loyal readers (all 4 of you) of my recent adventure on the Island of Lanzarote. Call it familial exhibitionism at its finest. Call it a David Sedaris stint (only far less crafty, far less humorous, and perhaps far less exploitive).

It was a typical Namerow-Brickner-Messing affair colored by fussiness in restaurants, petty arguments among the parental units, a car accident in the parking lot of a lava field (thanks to my mother who *thought* she could drive stick in reverse), and a misguided late-night road excursion which could only be corrected by driving all the way back to the Lanzarote airport in order to once again find our way. Conversation ranged from my cousin's all-too-frequent visits to the S&M dental hygienist, Denise (also known as "Dee-Dee," "Double D," or "Dominatrix Denise"), to my father's latest crush on Rachel Ray, the food network's new hot chick who is mistakenly thought to be Jewish but is actually Italian (I've never seen Ms. Ray but have been told that she frequently excites her viewers with lines like: "How cool is that?!"), to my father's lifelong crush on the tri-state area CBS news anchor, Michelle Marsh, to the proud declaration and re-declaration that yes, we are most likely the only Jewish family on this island and if not the only Jewish family, the only Jewish family lighting Chanukah candles and celebrating Shabbat. The overstated doses of Jewish pride naturally evolved into further topical musings about how so-and-so married a shiksa and how another so-and-so left her husband for a goy with the implicit suggestion to the lovely Jewish offspring being: "it's a good idea to settle down with a Jew."

Our restaurant etiquette was most impressive. Polite requests to make a table for 8 gave the family countless opportunities to choreographically disassemble, re-assemble, and re-disassemble the tables into all sorts of combinations and permutations until we finally settled upon two symmetrical units of 4 and 4; a table of 8 was decidedly "too spatially cumbersome." Settling in to our dining environment (code for pulling together and pushing apart tables and dragging chairs from one corner of the restaurant to the other) was followed by the shameless deconstruction and reconstruction of nearly every dish on the menu to suit our dietary needs. Dorado fillet was substituted for Halibut, steamed spinach and lemon-marinated asparagus instead of potatoes, everything must be "a la plancha" (grilled) *NOT* fried, no mustard, "just a *splash* of olive oil," cream sauce on the side, plum compote instead of proscuitto, no bacon, no ham, feta cheese instead of gorgonzola, and "I will not eat a chicken breast that's dry or rubbery; please keep it tender." And finally (the best of all), my cousin's construction of her own dessert dish from the papaya which, until we entered the restaurant, was the center-piece of the restaurant's art display. In a total of 7 days, my family sent 6 dishes back to the kitchen for revisions and refinements. Not once was there a meal in which every member of the Namerow-Brickner-Messing party was satisfied. Not once did we exhibit flexibility of any kind.

As we toodled around the island to see sites including Cesar Manrique's architecturally phallic cactus garden and a lava cave home to the only blind albino crabs on the planet, our family sing-alongs never ceased. Only the Namerow-Brickner-Messings could have a musical repertoire of "Sloop John B," "My Heart Will Go On," "Getting to Know You" (from "The King and I"), and "Edelweiss" as we drove to and from regions of the island with names like "Uga" and "Femmes." Due to the overwhelmingly German presence on the island, "Edelweiss" quickly became our #1 Hit Single. On two occasions I had to remind the family that breaking into a round of "Edelweiss" every time we passed a German-speaking family or saw signs that read: "Achtung!" (Caution) was not in good taste. All of this as the parental units took turns crawling along windy roads overlooking 1000 ft. drops into the piercingly turquoise Atlantic Ocean surrounded by black beaches, volcanic caverns, and massive lava craters bearing a striking resemblance to the moon.

* * *

Back in Warsaw, the sky remains gray, the Vistula River remains muddy, and poor dining etiquette is never more egregious than double-dipping red pepper slices into a jar of mojo picante sauce and eating peanutbutter by the spoonful in the comfort of my own kitchen.