English Original
Anytime I see banana pudding on a menu, I'm filled with an euphoric sense of well-being and taken back to a special moment in my life when I learned an important lesson about jealousy and love.
It all began when my stepchildren came for a visit shortly after their father and I were married. Cheryl was 8, and Chuck was 10. Our small apartment soon became an obstacle course littered with stuffed animals, toys, and games.
I liked the kids from the start. They were everything I could have wanted in a son and daughter. Of course, I wanted to win them over. They seemed to like me well enough, but I wasn't sure, especially at mealtime. Cheryl, in particular, enjoyed watching me prepare the evening meal and shadowed my every move in the kitchen. She had an insatiable curiosity combined with an enchanting, yet somewhat disconcerting, honesty.
"Whatcha doing?" she asked.
"Making potato salad," I replied.
She stood on her tiptoes and scrutinized the bowls of chopped pickles, eggs, and onions. Her lips curled in disgust. She pointed at the bowls. "What's that? And that ... and that!"
My answers did not seem to please her. She shook her head in disapproval. "My mama doesn't make it that way," she informed me.
"Well, just taste it at dinner," I countered, smiling thinly to mask my irritation. "If you don't like it, you don't have to eat it."
It became a nightly ritual. Unfortunately, her father believed that children should eat everything on their plate, including a sample of any dreaded dish that their mother made in a different way than I did.
As a result, I started to feel like Snow White's wicked stepmother, plotting against the princess as I willed her to succumb to my culinary magic. Chuck, who at first ate anything and everything, developed critical tendencies. He soon took up the hue and cry of "Mama doesn't make it that way."
Each night after dinner, we sat on the sofa with Dad in the middle, a child on each side, and me on the outside. It seemed appropriate. I was feeling more and more like an outcast.
One night while wrestling with his father on the sofa, Chuck found some stray popcorn kernels under the cushions. Cheryl chastised me, saying that her mama always vacuumed under their sofa seats every week.
By this time, I was developing a serious dislike both for her mother and her methods.
Then, at last, I found a dish their mama didn't make – one both the kids liked – banana pudding. They helped me in the kitchen. Chuck beat the egg whites for the topping while Cheryl carefully lined the pan with vanilla wafers. I cut up the bananas and prepared the filling. They both licked the bowl. We all had fun. It was a time of sharing and laughter.
Later, making banana pudding became a cherished family tradition.
On the last night before they were to return home, we had arranged a family get-together. When the doorbell rang, Cheryl scampered to answer. My sister-in-law Carol stood framed in the doorway with a large bowl clutched in her hands. "What's that?" Cheryl immediately wanted to know.
"It's banana pudding," Carol offered proudly.
Cheryl took a closer look, then shook her head from side to side and said, "Karen doesn't make it that way."
I dissolved in laughter that no one else understood. Suddenly, my tension and anxiety disappeared, and I knew that when those kids got back home, their mother would be hearing a lot about how "Karen doesn't do it that way." She had my sympathy and respect.
It seemed their mom and I had more in common than I thought; we both used one important ingredient in our cooking, the most active one – love.
中文翻译
每当我在菜单上看到香蕉布丁，一种精神愉快的幸福感便油然而生，将我带回到生命中一个特殊的时刻。那时，我学到了关于嫉妒与爱的重要一课。
这一切始于我和他们的父亲结婚后不久，我的继子女们前来探望。谢丽尔8岁，查克10岁。我们的小公寓很快变成了一个布满毛绒玩具、玩具和游戏的障碍赛道。
但我从一开始就喜欢这两个孩子。他们正是我心目中理想的儿女模样。当然，我想赢得他们的心。他们似乎也挺喜欢我，但我不太确定，尤其是在用餐时间。谢丽尔特别喜欢看我准备晚餐，在厨房里跟着我的每一个动作。她有一种贪得无厌的好奇心，结合着一种迷人的、却又令人有些不安的诚实。
“你在做什么？”她问。
“做土豆沙拉，”我回答。
她踮起脚尖，详细检查着装有切碎的腌黄瓜、鸡蛋和洋葱的碗。她的嘴唇厌恶地撇着。她指着那些碗。“那是什么？还有那个……那个！”
我的回答似乎没能让她满意。她不赞成地摇摇头。“我妈妈不是那样做的，”她告诉我。
“好吧，晚饭时尝尝看，”我反驳道，勉强挤出一丝微笑以掩饰我的恼怒。“如果你不喜欢，可以不吃。”
这成了每晚的惯例。不幸的是，她的父亲认为孩子应该吃掉盘子里的所有东西，包括任何一道他们妈妈做法与我不同的、可怕的菜肴的样品。
结果，我开始感觉自己像白雪公主的那个邪恶的继母，密谋对付公主，希望她能屈服于我的烹饪魔法。查克起初什么都吃，后来也变得挑剔起来。他很快也加入了大声抗议的行列，喊着“妈妈不是那样做的”。
每晚饭后，我们都坐在沙发上，爸爸在中间，一边一个孩子，而我坐在最外边。这似乎很合适。我感觉自己越来越像个局外人。
一天晚上，查克和父亲在沙发上打闹时，在坐垫下发现了一些散落的爆米花粒。谢丽尔责骂了我，说她妈妈每周都会用吸尘器清理沙发座下面。
到这个时候，我开始对她妈妈和她的方法都产生了严重的反感。
然后，我终于找到了一道他们妈妈不做的菜——一道两个孩子都喜欢的菜——香蕉布丁。他们在厨房里帮我的忙。查克负责打顶部的蛋白霜，而谢丽尔则小心翼翼地在烤盘里铺上香草味的威化饼。我切好香蕉，准备好馅料。他们都舔了碗。我们都很开心。那是一段分享和欢笑的时光。
后来，制作香蕉布丁成了一项珍贵的家庭传统。
在他们即将回家的前一晚，我们安排了一次家庭聚会。门铃响起时，谢丽尔蹦蹦跳跳地跑去开门。我的嫂子卡罗尔站在门口，手里紧紧抱着一个大碗。“那是什么？”谢丽尔立刻想知道。
“是香蕉布丁，”卡罗尔自豪地说。
谢丽尔凑近看了看，然后左右摇摇头说：“凯伦不是那样做的。”
我忍不住大笑起来，其他人都不明白为什么。突然间，我的紧张和焦虑都消失了，我知道当这些孩子回到家，他们的妈妈会听到很多关于“凯伦不是那样做的”说法。我同情并尊重她。
看来，他们的妈妈和我比我想象的有更多共同点；我们在烹饪中都使用了一种重要的原料，最活跃的那种——爱。