We were shopping in the Polish market as we are known to when the occasion arises that we need fun foreign nibbles. Boxes marked with Polish accented script is just foreign enough to intrigue and not disgust. Often we surprise ourselves as well as our guests when we peer into the containers of what we thought were familiar food-stuffs. The results are generally positive and we have a good chuckle over odd red-herring (pun-intended).
The shelves and refrigerators were stocked with the usual fare with not much new to discover, save for the plethora of potted meat. The variety tends to be within the butcher cases featuring different “hmm, I didn’t think that was edible” meats, and the deli steaming with it’s trays of ready-to-eat food, and the bakery counter. Looking for a sweet my eyes landed on a Babka, a egg bread baked in the shape of a ring topped with an icing and sprinkles of may sorts.
“Ooh, these look good” I say to the woman standing next to me.
“Are you getting one? I’m thinking of getting one.” as she sidles the bakers rack.
I tell her that there are clear plastic bags hanging on the side of the rack. I reach across her and tear a bag away from from the block and hand it to her.
“These don’t fit!” she says clearly humored by the situation, “Are there cake boxes around?”.
I point to a stack large brown paper grocery bags on a nearby baker’s rack. She unfolded one and held it open while I grabbed a babka using the wasted plastic bag as a glove. Rolling the edge of the paper bag she smiled and said, “OK, we’re all set!”
Now this may read like a banal scene, but this woman spoke to me in Polish. Driven by her determination to get her shopping done, she didn’t bother to switching to English to help out someone who was clearly not Polish. I wasn’t offended by this nor do I hold enmity towards Polish people. For a brief moment we were brought together because inconvenience is universal.
PS: The babka with the chocolate icing was fantastic.