Easter 2012


invasive, non native Bun-Buns
(buying lamb for Easter 2012)

Here they come, invading the semi rational space of the living and dining rooms. Emerging from their lurking place in the attic sometime during Holy Week, they spread furry cuteness all over the place and give Philip the willies. Invasive because they show up on formerly clear surfaces. Non Native because, to a bun, they were made in China, bought by my sister and mailed to Oakland from Sierra Madre. Bun-Buns is a technical term that covers all things fluffy and Easteratic. It covers duckies, bunnies and little bitty lambs.
Easter is the star of my year. The little Mother comes up from the above-mentioned Sierra Madre, the understanding boss gives me the week off and the games begin. The invitations go out about a month before and by the week in question I usually know how many hordes will descend. One horde in or out is not the problem; the problem is how many deviled eggs will be needed (more about that later.) There is time for lunches and visiting and slow, careful preparation.  
Besides its obvious theological enchantments, Easter means the biggest party of the year, it means lamb and that lamb is halal. We are honored, in the Oakland/Berkeley metro, to have a good sized Middle Eastern and South Asian population. The nexus of University Ave. and San Pablo Ave. boasts at least 3 places where one can get fresh, good lamb. I found this vortex of really good food when I was working at the late and still lamented Cody’s 4th St. The Indus Food Center at 1920 San Pablo Ave. Berkeley is a combination grocery and butcher where you can just about everything you might need. Even though it is way out of my way now, I still go up there when I need sour cherries for pie.
A year or so ago I read a good writeup of a big halal market just over the hill from us on Telegraph Ave. It’s convenient, but it’s not for me. No big jugs of sour cherries and terrible customer service. (If you are female, alone and not Arabic speaking, don’t ask for help.) But lo, sometime in January a customer of mine told me about a butcher shop just across that little spur of 32nd. She said the meat was wonderful and the folks really nice. So, sometime later, I checked out Oakland Halal Meat and Produce at 3101 Telegraph Ave where I found beautiful, very fresh meat and perfect service. They will cut it anyway you want and, if you tell them what you are cooking, what cut you need. This place is a real butcher shop.
Thus, mine mutter and I made our way to the little place to procure the leg ‘o lamb for the festal day. The sun was shining fitfully on Holy Saturday and I found a parking space within a half a block of our destination. Herself can still walk, at 87, but she is stately in her pace. As I helped her out of the car and up the street, we were greeted by a tall, noble man dressed in a long outer robe and skullcap. He looked like an imam and graciously asked if the lady was my mother. She sweetly acknowledged me as her daughter and the gentleman gave me a jewel I will keep: “A mother’s words go directly to God.” Folks like it when the mommy and I are out and about.
Oakland Halal Meat and Produce is a pristine butcher shop with a small veggie stall on the left. I believe the folks are from Yemen and they are very nice. We walked up and I discussed the number of meat eaters with the expert behind the counter. We agreed on 7lb and then the magic happened. He went to the cold room and came out with a whole cold fresh lamb. In moments, the whole was cut down to the leg we needed and put in the largest zip lock bag I’ve ever seen. As we paid for the meat we were presented with a bunch of ripe bananas. A gift from the shop. You gotta go to this place. When we brought our swag back to the house, I realized one more gift. That zip lock bag was big enough to hold the lamb and all of the onions for the marinade. Onions and lamb and lamb and onions, reach to the height of godliness.
On Easter morning after service and with all the linens ironed and the tables laid, the last moment work began. By the grace of Christ, I have a kitchen large enough that three adult women can work in it and enjoy each other’s company. Tonia was working under the altar, filling the best cannoli I’ve ever had. (Note: when choosing friends, try to include at least one Brooklyn-born, Italian-raised kick-ass soprano.) Kathryn, builder and sailor extraordinaire,  was addressing the largest collection of eggs for deviling that our house has ever seen.
You need to understand this about deviled eggs and Easter. There are those, notably my best friend Liz, who consider the perfect Easter dinner to be enough champagne and enough deviled eggs. Time consuming and finicky, deviled eggs with homemade mayonnaise are my signature dish. The whites get rubbery if they sit overnight in the fridge; the eggs have to be boiled, made and filled on the morning of the party. Oh, by the way, the eggs have to be very fresh. And there is no such thing as enough.
This is Easter in Oakland. I can get everything I need and dear men compliment my mother.  If you don’t do Easter, you might want to give it a try. There are deviled eggs, great music, love, friends and invasive, non-native Bun-Buns.