On Sunday M took Efram to Queens to pick up some chairs I found on Ebay. (You’ll see a picture of those once I’ve cleaned them up.)
“You should take him for lunch,” I suggested. “There are a ton of interesting ethnic restaurants in Queens.”
Queens is very large and personally, I find it impossible to navigate. But I’d given M the perfect challenge/gift: in the name of father-son bonding, find a restaurant and eat without me watching you.
Sure enough, the chairs were located in a warehouse which was located near a string of Bukharian restaurants. I have no idea which one they chose, but I did receive the following text from M:
“Guess what Efram ate? Hint: it’s number 48.”
… And the following picture:
“Like gefilte fish,” he said.
Oy. A nation of Bukharian (Central Asian) Jews are rolling their eyes somewhere.
Interestingly, Efram was unable to attend school yesterday due to a stomach ache. Mind you, he often has a stomach ache on Monday mornings. I didn’t want to damper his culinary curiosity, so I didn’t bring up the testicles.
But it’s hard to ignore. Here’s a recipe for truancy, kids: Lamb testicles on a Sunday = No school on Monday.