“Can I bring you something?,” he asked on his way out the door.
“I can’t think of anything.”
“Are you sure?”
I stop and think a moment. I’d bought a butternut squash at the market on Saturday because I’d wanted to make butternut squash soup. I have a favourite recipe from my Looney Spoons cookbook. I remember that I like to decorate a serving with roasted walnuts or pecans and dried cranberries. I’d found some dried cranberries in the store when I’d been out shopping, but I’d forgotten about the nuts.
“Well, you could pick up some pecans maybe.”
He is quizzical. “Pecans? C’est quoi les pecans?”
I don’t know the word in French and he doesn’t know what they are in English. There is a bit of a kerfuffle as we both scramble to our computers to translate the word pecan.
We use babelfish and Google image and find exactly what I’m looking for: “Voila! Les noix de pécans!”
He shrugs. “Ok. Les noix de pécans!”
He leaves and is gone awhile. I wonder if he’s got lost. Eventually, the door opens again and he enters with a wide grin, “Voila, les noix!” and plops a grocery bag on the table.
He has bought one of every type of nut in the store.