“I used everything I brought to cook. Go on, run to your appointment. I can fry blini without milk—they’ll taste even better.”
“You’re a miracle, Mom! Make them with meat—there’s ground beef in the freezer, just thaw it… you know the drill. There’ll be six people, all coming straight from work and starving,” Masha rattled off instructions on her way out the door. “They’ll be here at seven.”
Viktoriya rolled up her sleeves and went to “work her magic.” Her granddaughter helped, beating eggs and sugar, while little Misha ran around the kitchen, laughing and hugging his grandma.
“It’s no trouble; it’s all joy,” Viktoriya told herself. Forty minutes later a tempting mound of blini sat on the table, the house smelled of comfort and good food, and Viktoriya Semyonovna could barely stay on her feet from exhaustion.
“Ah, blini! Thanks, Viktoriya Semyonovna!” her son-in-law Seva ducked into the kitchen and popped a couple into his mouth on the run. “I was wondering what to serve the guys…”
