Happy International Women Day, Beautiful People! On this day, I want to commemorate three great ladies of my family: my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother . To all of you, ladies – enjoy your day!
I wouldn’t dare call it plov, and not because the base is quinoa instead of rice. During WWII, when Odessa was occupied by the Nazi and all men were fighting in the army, the women on my mother’s side of the family were evacuated to Tashkent, the capital of Uzbekistan. The three of them, my mother who was eleven years old, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother, were housed in a women’s half of the little house owned by an Uzbeki. He used to come to my grandmother quite often with the same request:
“Raika-Khanum (Mrs. Rachel), give rice, a little rice, guests came, brought lamb, need rice, need make plov”
“How much do you need? A cup? Two?”
“Raika-Khanum, understand guests came? Brought lamb? Need make plov, need a kilo, two, maybe five…”
She couldn’t refuse the extortionist, of course, and the second part of the exchange followed:
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