Dinner with Mish and Lydia

We didn't go eat at Inka Mama's last night. Instead, my father favored Persian food. He has only had it once or twice, but the prospect of beautiful kebabs and flavorful mounds of saffron rice sounded good to him, so despite the fact that Jeremy hates Persian food ( we had initially thought he would be working anyhow), we went there. The fact that it was less than 3 miles from their house also contributed to the choice of this place, and also the fact that Monster Munching had enthused over the quality of the food at this small, family owned place in Lake Forest.
It didn't start off well. Mom was not feeling well. She had caught the cold and cough we all have been passing around to each other. But the caregiver talked her into going. The thing about her memory is that a few minutes after you ask her, she is ready to be asked again, and this time you might get a different answer.
But she finally agreed, and I handed her a small bouquet of yellow roses and a box of truffles. Mom doesn't eat much these days, but she's a sucker for chocolate, so those were welcome. She, in turn, gave me the gloves that my dad bought for her. They are buttery soft black leather, with a warm lining, very welcome in this uncommonly cold weather. But she wouldn't wear them. Instead she dropped them into the black hole at the bottom of the closet. I didn't have warm gloves, so I told my dad that if she wouldn't wear them, I would! She wanted me to have them, and I put them on immediately.
We found the restaurant easily, and in a few minutes were seated in the cramped space, in a strip mall notable for its diverse ethnicities of restaurant--sushi, Indian, and Persian all within the same little space of half a block. I ordered for everyone, since I know more about Persian food than anyone else. I got soup for everyone but me. I knew that my father and Richard love lentils, and that mom is always cold. I don't like lentils, generally, so I ordered a shirazi salad for myself.
A shirazi is a lovely salad, composed of crisp peeled shards of Persian cucumbers, niblets of red onion, and fresh diced tomato. All of this is topped with a Persian spice called Sumac, and a squeeze of sweet lemon (such as Meyer) and olive oil. The shirazi at this restaurant was extremely bright and lively in taste, possibly the best I have ever had.
Meanwhile, everyone but mom enthused about the soup. Her tastebuds have gone awry, and so she found the soup inedible, much too salty. She pushed the bowl away, so I took it, and shared my salad around with everyone (except mom, who won't eat salad now). A few minutes later, she was looking at me with hurt eyes, asking, "Why don't I get soup?" By then, the soup was gone. It was good, despite the lentils, not salty at all.
Then two great platters of rice and kebabs arrived. We ordered a rice dish full of tomatoes, green beans, and pulverized beef. I don't usually eat beef because of the cholesterol and because I am unused to it now. It is tremendously heavy and doesn't taste right to me anymore. But the rice was delicious. On the side was a long beautifully spiced kebab of soft ground chicken. My parents were to share a mound of cherry rice (sour cherries in saffron rice) and a long long skewer of filet mignon with green peppers and onions, very tender and again, beautifully spiced.
My mom tried a bit of everything on her small plate, but besides squares of flatbread smeared with sweet butter (squares of bread which she initially took for paper), she wouldn't really eat anything, but looked at us hungrily. I guess Persian isn't her cup of tea, though the drinkable tea she was given was deemed acceptable (a rarity for her).
We didn't get any dessert, but instead hustled back into the cold cold car and headed back to the board and care. It was still early for us, but nearly time for the folks to turn in. My dad called an hour later to thank us for the beautiful dinner, flowers, and candy. I'm sure my mom had a boiled egg before she went to bed. She was certainly still hungry.