Diti removed the buffalo shanks that were searing in a cast iron skillet, and added diced onion, celery and carrot, or mirepoix,92 and chopped garlic. To this, he poured some buffalo stock, to deglaze the pan, and finally tomato paste. Placing the shanks into the mixture, he brought it to a boil, then lidded the skillet and placed it into an oven.
Diti stopped for a moment, and lifting a glass of water from his workstation, drank deeply. The kitchen was a little warm, but he had been so engrossed in his cooking, that he hadn’t noticed his growing thirst.
Diti loved his job, and was profoundly grateful for his luck in starting his career in such a top-notch establishment. He believed in
Lena, and knew that his career would continue to flourish.
Beginning at Vicki’s as a prep cook, then Sous-Chef, Diti was ultimately promoted to his present position as Executive Chef. Cooking was like breathing to him, and his dedication to his craft was apparent in the food he prepared, as well as his manner of presentation.
90 En-dree – Albanian meaning light.
91 Dee-tee
92 Meer-pwah – a combination of one part diced carrots, one part diced celery and two parts diced onions used as a base for many types of
cuisine, especially in French dishes.
Diti walked to the sink and refilled his glass, drinking thirstily again. Delicious aromas were wafting through the kitchen, embracing him in their succulent vapors.
Endrit Kastrioti was a thirty-year-old, dark haired man from the capital city of Ballsh in the province of Mallakaster in Southern Albania. He often traveled to Southern Ohio for micro-vacations with his family, enjoying the hills of Hocking County, which reminded him of the rolling land of his mother country. However, the clean, green smells of Old Man’s Cave, for instance, did not remind him of the smell of his hometown. Rich in petroleum and home to a refinery, the smell of gas permeated the air of Ballsh and seemed, according to Diti, to “punch the air right out of your lungs.”
Short of temper, and quick to apologize, he adored his wife Besara93
and daughter Era.94 He was a kind man who loved children, women, his family, and good food.
Diti turned from the sink as the door to the kitchen opened and his brother, Dejan95 entered. The day manager of Vicki’s, Dejan arrived in America a few years before his younger brother. Married to Luli,96 a petite beauty with a large personality, he felt extremely fortunate in all areas of his life: his family, friends, and working with his kid brother.
Tall, with the same dark hair as Diti, Dejan walked with an air of confidence, presenting to the world an open, charming personality, which drew many to him. His larger hand held that of the eight-year-old Logan.
Face wreathed in smiles, Logan limped to a table and chair where he would spend the morning helping Diti prepare some of the ingredients for the lunch crowd.
Two weeks previously, Logan had endured yet another surgery to repair his anomaly. A sizeable piece of bone taken from his tiny hip was transplanted to his alveolar ridge, or gum line, where bone was missing. Once his surgeon was comfortable that the gum would not resorb, an orthodontist could begin straightening Logan’s crooked teeth. Logan was missing an incisor due to the clefting, for which a new tooth would be provided where the now new gum existed, either by moving the tooth behind the empty space forward into place, and shaping it to look like an incisor, or by implant.
Logan faced a summer of restricted activities because of the missing bone from his hip, which needed to re-grow before he could ride his bicycle, jump, roller skate, or engage in any of the activities an eight-
93 Baysa-ar – honor, trust, faith
94 Air-uh – wind
95 Dan – God is my judge
96 Loo-lee – flower
year-old boy enjoyed during the long, summer vacation before starting back to school in the fall.
Lena knew that her parents would gladly watch their beloved grandson while she was at the restaurant, but wanted Logan engaged in something to stave off boredom. In addition, she felt that an opportunity
to learn a life skill must never be passed up. Also, Logan would inherit
the restaurant some day, and Lena felt that he should begin learning how to take care of his inheritance. Therefore, she recruited her staff to help her with her son, until her parents picked him up in the early afternoon for a much needed rest after the activities of the day.
Diti smiled at the little boy, wincing inside as he remembered the pain Logan had endured after his surgery. He was, however, pleased to see that Logan’s limp was becoming less and less noticeable, which meant that the pain was abating.
Such a sweet kid, Diti thought to himself, preparing to enjoy
Logan’s company.
Logan was a little boy - for a while longer. His arms were smooth and round, his shoulders boney: the body of an active child gone from chubby and babyish to the coltish build of the adolescent who likes to
fish, bullfrog hunt, run with his dog.
His hair was a luxuriant, shining dark, brown. His large eyes, the same color as his mother’s, were luminous and full of intelligence, his forehead broad and high, but not overly so. His skin was a smooth bronze, his brows clear cut and slightly arched, his face beautiful in spite of his birth defect: the severe clefting of the lip, gum and hard and soft palates, now repaired. The surgeons had done their work well. His upper lip was plumping out and the hint of a cupid’s bow was beginning to manifest.
Diti walked to the table and placed a bowl on its immaculate surface.
“Lale!”97 he exclaimed with pleasure, “it is good to see you today. You’re going to help me, yes?” Diti asked, his eyes sparkling with pleasure.
“Yes, Diti,” Logan smiled. “You are kind to let me come and help. What do you want me to do?” the child queried.
“A very important job,” Diti informed. “Our customers love our sweet potato hash and it is in big demand. It takes a lot of work to keep
enough ready to throw into the sauté pan and have it out of the kitchen with the rest of the meal. So here is what I want you to do.”
Diti placed a partially cooked sweet potato on the table. Handing
Logan a plastic chef’s knife, which he had bought the night before at the local GFS restaurant supply market, he showed the boy how to pull the
97 Lah-lee – Albanian - little brother
skin off the boiled root vegetable, a task made easy by the cooking process. He then instructed him on how to cut the potato in half, each half into quarters and then to dice them into bite size pieces. Logan smiled his understanding and set to work, his pink tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth, as his mother’s used to do, in the warm and loving kitchen in which she grew up in Southern Ohio.
The morning progressed serenely, with Logan dicing sweet potatoes, crumbling cooked bacon, chopping chives and performing other simple yet important tasks.
At one point, Diti had to suppress a smile when, turning to Logan he asked,
“Is it going well, Lale?”
“Yes, Chef,” the precocious boy answered. Diti was amused but pleased at the same time.
He’ll make a fine restaurateur some day, Diti asserted, nodding to himself in approval of his statement, a fine restaurateur, indeed.
The morning progressed quickly for Logan. Busy with his duties, the morning hours flew, and before he was aware of the time, Diti placed a plate in front of him. Logan smiled with delight. His favorite dish of the restaurant, Elk meatloaf presented upon a bed of herb-scented quinoa. Spears of asparagus shone vibrant green and glistened with olive oil. The scent of rosemary tickled his nose and caused his mouth to water.
Diti smiled his appreciation and returned to the stove. As he reached the shining appliance, he heard Logan whisper,
“Waste, lila waste! Wopila, thank you, for giving your life that I
may live.”
Diti was touched. The young boy was thanking the animal and the plants that gave up their liv
es so that he may live.
Tunkasila! Logan cried! Peter smiled as he walked to the table where Logan was helping Nickie fold napkins for the evening service. It was mid-afternoon, and time for Logan to head home for some quiet time with his grandparents.
Peter was much improved from the man who sat at the “Spotted Eagle Table,” so many years ago, not only mentally, but physically as well. His left arm was supple, his hand uncurled. An almost undetectable droop of the left side of his mouth, and a slight hesitance of speech, were the only apparent testaments to his head injury 15 years before.
Logan rose painfully from the chair. Walking to his grandparent’s car would help to loosen his stiffened hip. Taking his grandfather’s
hand, and turning to give Nickie a shy smile, Logan thanked her for
working with him. Walking into the sunlight with Peter, he gave a final glance back before the door to the restaurant closed.
“So, Takoja, what will we do when we get home?” Peter queried. “May I go bullfrog hunting, Tunkasila?” Logan asked hopefully. “Well, now, it seems that it isn’t time yet for you to be trying
something like that, ennit. How about if I hunt the frogs for you, you
examine them, and then tell me if they are well enough to put back into the lake. If they’re injured, you can help me set up the habitat, and I’ll go buy some crickets. Would that be good?” Peter smiled.
“Oh, yes! We have to make sure that all of my babies are well, Tunkasila!” Logan stressed.
At age six, Logan chanced upon a teenage boy hunting bullfrogs along the lake’s grassy shore. Questioning the young man, he obtained
the rudiments of successfully hunting the fascinating creatures. He
learned to handle them only when his hands were wet, so as not to tear their skin, to hold them gently and to return them to the lake as quickly as possible. Peter ruffled his grandson’s hair, and slowly walked him to the car.
Mary was waiting, and exited the vehicle as Logan approached, hugging him to her. Burying her nose in his shining hair, she breathed him in, enjoying his clean, little boy smell laced with the fragrances of the kitchen. All piled in, buckled up, and headed for the lakefront house where Logan and Lena lived with their “pound puppy,” Kelly, and the ducks, geese and frogs, which were a large part of Logan’s life. He loved the lake, and considered the creatures whom he shared his life with his personal responsibility.
Peter pulled into the driveway, and they entered the spacious home. Kelly, a Yellow Lab, Terrier mix, ran to Logan, tail wagging with joy. Logan bent to hug her white, fuzzy head close to his heart.
“Hello, Sunka Ska!98 We’re going bullfrog hunting!” he cried with
joy.
“After a snack,” Mary insisted, smiling with love at her glorious
grandchild.
Mary prepared a plate of applesauce and fry bread, making sure, as Diti had, that the food was soft enough for the recovering youngster to enjoy without jeopardizing the bone graft, giving the requisite
grandmother admonition:
“Bite and chew on the right side!”
Snack eaten, Logan followed his grandfather to the back deck and out to the lake, fish net in hand.
“Okay, Logan, you must tell me how to do this!” Peter laughed.
98 Shoonkah Shkah – white dog
“It’s easy, Tunkasila! Just lie down on the dock there and see if you can see some eyes. Then, use the net and sweep it slowly. When you feel a little, tender thing,99 that is the frog. Just scoop him up gently and hand him to me.”
“Yes, sir!” Peter smiled.
Peter was amazed at how quickly he managed to catch a bullfrog – a pretty good-sized specimen at that. Once pulled from the water, it was evident that the frog was in trouble. One of his back feet was missing, a
bloody stump giving witness to a recent attack by a snapping turtle.
“This is a fine frog, ennit,” Peter announced. “We need to get your habitat. There, over there, Tokaja. I have it ready for you.”
Peter smiled at his grandson, indicating the plastic one-gallon fish tank, which he had found in the garage, complete with a few rocks for the
frog to feed upon. Lake water was added to the tune of about three
inches and the frog placed within his temporary “clinic.”
Logan relaxed peacefully on the sofa in the family room, content with his day. He’d spent time with Diti and helped in the kitchen, gone over the evening menu with his ina and helped Nickie get ready for the evening service. Logan gave a small sigh. He kinda liked Nickie. Actually, he liked her a lot, and wished that she’d wait until he grew up. But, she wouldn’t, would she – she was in love with Sonny.
Logan’s smooth brow wrinkled in consternation. Nickie loved Sonny, but Sonny loved Ina. He knew he did. Whenever Sonny was around his ina, a soft light emanated from him, just like with Unci and
Tunkasila, and a soft light shone from Ina, but she didn’t seem to notice
Sonny, except for restaurant matters. It was very confusing. Logan moved slightly and winced. There was still an uncomfortable pinch in his right hip. He settled a little more into the cushions until he was comfortable.
I sure don’t understand it, he thought. Nickie loves Sonny, Sonny loves Ina, and Ina loves…me!
Logan smiled to himself and relaxed against the cushions again. Frogzilla gave a croak, and Logan turned his head to observe his
amphibian patient. Ensconced on the hearth of the wood burning fireplace, the large, injured frog relaxed after a satisfying meal of six,
large crickets. The stump had closed and stopped bleeding, and Logan
was sure he could release him in a few days.
99 Christopher Bullfrog Catcher, Christopher Shiveley Welch, Saga Books, page
27
Logan smiled to himself as his eyes slowly closed. Softly, sweetly, he drifted off with visions of fry bread, Nickie, and bullfrog hunts sweeping him away on a soft, soft cloud of dreams.
Chapter Twenty One
Our first teacher is our own heart
Cheyenne Proverb
Logan sat on the lower step of the back deck. Head in hands, he played the scene over and over in his mind. He had been naughty, and he didn’t know how to make it right.
The day started out like any other. Ina was up and making him breakfast, when he slowly descended the stairs, following his nose.
Carefully, he took one stair at a time, instead of his usual gamboling flight down the fourteen steps of the winding staircase. His hip still hurt
a little, and he was careful not to do anything that could cause a fall.
I sure don’t want to go through this again! he thought to himself. The smell of corn mush drew him into the kitchen. It was one of
his favorite breakfasts, and Ina made sure she made it for him often since the surgery.
Sometimes she fried it and served it with maple syrup, but since the
bone graft, she made it like a hot cereal, like oatmeal. It was delicious!
Logan dug in hungrily, perching upon one of the stools at the breakfast bar.
“Logan, Unci and Tunkasila will be here soon. They are coming here again today instead of your going to their house or Vicki’s. Until
you recover, this is the way it will be. Sometimes you will be able to go
to Vicki’s, but sometimes you must stay here. That way, you are home on your lake, and can amuse yourself with fishing and watching your animals, when you’re not helping at the restaurant.”
Lena smiled at her son and ruffled his hair. He was taking the inactivity well, and was managing to get through each day without becoming too bored.
“Why am I not going to see Diti and Dejan and Nickie today?” Logan questioned, spoon poised halfway to his mouth.
“You are a big help at Vicki’s, but today is a very busy day, and it’s best if you stay here. I think you should have some quiet days, don’t
you? Perhaps tomorrow you can r
eturn.
“Oh!” Lena exclaimed, “I almost forgot to tell you. Sherri is bringing Happy over today. Now, be careful, she is a big dog. I don’t want you wrestling with her or anything. In fact, why don’t you brush her and maybe give her a bath on the back deck. I think she’ll like that.”
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