too much with our mouths way too full. We also all decide that Rory, with her four cheese pizza with roasted pine nuts, is the pizza champion of the evening, and she does a victory lap around the table, whooping as she goes.
"It was the pine nuts that did it. They gave the pizza that little extra something." Allie reviews her sister's pizza, conceding victory. "A certain…zing, if you will."
"Thank you." Rory curtseys to one side of the table, then the other. "Thank you."
We all applaud. And it's only because I catch this look between Mom and Erik that I'm not supposed to see that I remember things aren't completely normal.
"As the winner, I'll now be off to create The Sundae." Rory says the words "The Sundae" gravely, loudly, and loaded with meaning, as we always do. I mean, it is dessert, after all, the most important part of any meal. And it's a great honor to be entrusted with such an important task.
While Rory creates, the rest of us clear the dishes and stack the dishwasher. As we come in and out of the kitchen, she protects the tall sundae glasses from our gaze. "No peeking!" she tells us.
We're almost done clearing when she calls out to us. "In front of the TV?" Rory asks.
"Yes!" we yell back, as one. Nothing beats The Sundae in front of The TV.
As Rory carries the tray with its five loaded-down sundaes on it out into the den, the rest of us clamber for our favorite spots and cushions on the huge sectional lounge. We all wait, practically drooling, as Rory passes around the glasses.
"Please, oh masterful creator, explain The Sundae to us this evening," Uncle Erik says when we all have our glasses.
Rory takes a seat beside me on the lounge. "Okay, so you know Cass brought us heaps of packets of Tim Tams," Rory starts and everyone nods. Tim Tams are this Aussie chocolate biscuit that is practically worth moving across the world for. They come in all different kinds, like double coat, dark chocolate, chewy caramel, black forest, and white chocolate, etc. But as with most things, the original kind—malt biscuit, chocolate cream filling, another malt biscuit and covered in milk chocolate—is the best. Wherever we go in the world, we take a whole lot of packets of Tim Tams with us.
"So, tonight, courtesy of Cass, The Sundae consists of chocolate ice cream, chocolate sauce, a crushed Tim Tam, more chocolate ice cream, a little more chocolate sauce, a dusting of crushed Tim Tam , and a garnish of roasted hazelnuts."
"Ooohhhh…" we all say. "Ahhhhh."
"Catch, Rory," Uncle Erik says, throwing the remote her way, and Rory catches it with her right hand, sundae in her left. It's only then, watching her, that I realize, the whole time we've been here, that Rory has stopped calling my mom "Aunt."
She flicks the TV on , and the very first thing we see makes us all jump.
"Uncle Roman!" Allie's the first to call it.
I recognize my mom's brother, of course, even though I've only met him a couple of times in my life and even then for only a few minutes at a time. The movie that's playing is one that he made a few years ago—a drama about an attorney defending a client on death row. He was nominated for an Oscar for it, but didn't win. But this year, he did win an Oscar for something else, which is, I guess, why they're playing this movie again now.
We sit in silence, scarfing up our sundaes and watching the scene play out before us. It's a powerful one. He's a pretty good actor, Uncle Roman. Mom always says probably the best in the family, despite their differences.
When the commercial break kicks in, Mom looks over at Uncle Erik. "Have you seen him since he won the Oscar?"
"No," Uncle Erik tells her. "He's been busy, of course. Interview after interview, I think. And now he's shooting something in Vienna."
"Amazing that he finally won an Oscar." Mom shakes her head. "Considering…"
"He's 'not much of an actor,'" the pair of them chime in together, making quotation marks in the air with their fingers, and then
"It was the pine nuts that did it. They gave the pizza that little extra something." Allie reviews her sister's pizza, conceding victory. "A certain…zing, if you will."
"Thank you." Rory curtseys to one side of the table, then the other. "Thank you."
We all applaud. And it's only because I catch this look between Mom and Erik that I'm not supposed to see that I remember things aren't completely normal.
"As the winner, I'll now be off to create The Sundae." Rory says the words "The Sundae" gravely, loudly, and loaded with meaning, as we always do. I mean, it is dessert, after all, the most important part of any meal. And it's a great honor to be entrusted with such an important task.
While Rory creates, the rest of us clear the dishes and stack the dishwasher. As we come in and out of the kitchen, she protects the tall sundae glasses from our gaze. "No peeking!" she tells us.
We're almost done clearing when she calls out to us. "In front of the TV?" Rory asks.
"Yes!" we yell back, as one. Nothing beats The Sundae in front of The TV.
As Rory carries the tray with its five loaded-down sundaes on it out into the den, the rest of us clamber for our favorite spots and cushions on the huge sectional lounge. We all wait, practically drooling, as Rory passes around the glasses.
"Please, oh masterful creator, explain The Sundae to us this evening," Uncle Erik says when we all have our glasses.
Rory takes a seat beside me on the lounge. "Okay, so you know Cass brought us heaps of packets of Tim Tams," Rory starts and everyone nods. Tim Tams are this Aussie chocolate biscuit that is practically worth moving across the world for. They come in all different kinds, like double coat, dark chocolate, chewy caramel, black forest, and white chocolate, etc. But as with most things, the original kind—malt biscuit, chocolate cream filling, another malt biscuit and covered in milk chocolate—is the best. Wherever we go in the world, we take a whole lot of packets of Tim Tams with us.
"So, tonight, courtesy of Cass, The Sundae consists of chocolate ice cream, chocolate sauce, a crushed Tim Tam, more chocolate ice cream, a little more chocolate sauce, a dusting of crushed Tim Tam , and a garnish of roasted hazelnuts."
"Ooohhhh…" we all say. "Ahhhhh."
"Catch, Rory," Uncle Erik says, throwing the remote her way, and Rory catches it with her right hand, sundae in her left. It's only then, watching her, that I realize, the whole time we've been here, that Rory has stopped calling my mom "Aunt."
She flicks the TV on , and the very first thing we see makes us all jump.
"Uncle Roman!" Allie's the first to call it.
I recognize my mom's brother, of course, even though I've only met him a couple of times in my life and even then for only a few minutes at a time. The movie that's playing is one that he made a few years ago—a drama about an attorney defending a client on death row. He was nominated for an Oscar for it, but didn't win. But this year, he did win an Oscar for something else, which is, I guess, why they're playing this movie again now.
We sit in silence, scarfing up our sundaes and watching the scene play out before us. It's a powerful one. He's a pretty good actor, Uncle Roman. Mom always says probably the best in the family, despite their differences.
When the commercial break kicks in, Mom looks over at Uncle Erik. "Have you seen him since he won the Oscar?"
"No," Uncle Erik tells her. "He's been busy, of course. Interview after interview, I think. And now he's shooting something in Vienna."
"Amazing that he finally won an Oscar." Mom shakes her head. "Considering…"
"He's 'not much of an actor,'" the pair of them chime in together, making quotation marks in the air with their fingers, and then
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