I remember how much fun our church's annual Armenian Picnic used to be.
When I was younger, every year our church would hold a picnic on the grounds that we shared with the Armenian Orthodox Church that was also in our area - actually, sharing these grounds were one of the few areas where our two churches (ours, a Protestant ethnic Armenian congregation) had in common. Food, I guess, really is the tie that binds...
Anyway, these annual events helped raise funds for the churches' operations - and were open to the public, as well, giving anyone interested in sampling true Armenian food the opportunity to enjoy the real thing.
Curiously, my very NON-Armenian mother was usually in charge of the pilaf. The general consensus was that hers really was the best. My grandmother always made the paklava for dessert. Grandma's paklava was so good that, for several years, she had the opportunity to sell it at an ethnic specialty store that was in our area....and this was in the 1950s/60s, when the rest of the world barely knew of the wonderful stuff and phyllo dough was totally unavailable in the frozen foods section of the local supermarket.
But that was, basically, where the agreeable kitchen ended. Walking in during the heated preparations, the uninitiated would have found the Ladies Auxiliary women in heated arguments over how much - or how little - chaimen should be put into the shish kebab. Outside, the men would be arguing out by the fires over how hot and more - or less - smoky the coals should be to grill the perfect kebab. In between, everyone would be arguing over everything from politics to religion to the merits of the most recent car model to roll off Detroit's assembly line. For Armenians engaged in food, arguing came with the territory - and was part of the whole experience.
I no longer live in that community and haven't been in the area for many years when the annual Armenian Picnic rolls around, but I understand that not a lot has really changed. My grandmother - and most of her generation - has passed by now. But, my mother still usually is in charge of the pilaf, the next generation of Auxiliary Ladies is still arguing over the seasoning for the shish kebab...and the men are still by the fires, discussing how hot and smoky the fire should actually be.
