Dima’s Uncle and the Belle of the Ball

Remembering birthdays: Moon over Berlin, B1C16

“More cream potatoes, Arkady?” asked Borin. “No? Dima, come, I know your stomach is bottomless.” He ladled a heaping portion onto his son’s plate.

“No wonder he’s so big, Fyodor,” Dima’s uncle said. “I’d forgotten how well you cook! Remember our forbidden feasts at the Academy? Even then, you were the chef.”

Dima speared a fingerling potato out of its bath of cream and butter, pleased that his Uncle Arkady had come, even if it meant Alexey was having his own meal out in the living room. His father often treated the young soldier like a member of the family — but that wasn’t possible when an officer as senior as his uncle was in the house.

Dima was happy to concentrate on Arkady. He smiled to remember how his mother had loved preparing for her brother’s visits. He could all but smell the raw flour and butter that covered her hands as she mixed up cakes and pastries, letting little Dima make a mess as he “helped.” Sometimes when Arkady was around, it felt like his mother must be close, just off in the other room preparing the tea.

His uncle pushed back his chair and sighed. “If I ate like this every day, I might actually put on a few pounds.”