The Naughty Easter Bunny

Willow Blooms #056 Lessons from British vs American English

Tomorrow is Easter Sunday. My family are all convening for the holidays, and recently my sister shared the question posed by my youngest niece of whether the ‘Naughty Easter Bunny’ would make an appearance this year. She was remembering the second delivery of shiny eggs that appeared in the garden just in time for Auntie Jo to watch the excited children run around the garden to collect them up. Her memory of this was of disappointment. She hoped the Naughty Easter Bunny would not make a return visit.

Auntie Jo’s memory of the day was different. She recalls joy in the faces of the children as they ran around the garden, the pleasure in gathering their bounties and the satisfaction and envy when comparing caches, before bringing them inside to eat. She knows both children had fun. She remembers too, there were different reactions when the pair discovered that the foil concealed not chocolate, but grapes. One child immediately discarded the eggs in disappointment, whilst the other gleefully gathered and gobbled them up before they could be taken away.

I had forgotten all about the Naughty Easter Bunny and my niece’s question was a reminder that the things we do have an impact on our children, and that we each remember things differently. Her story is of there being a Naughty Easter Bunny that plays tricks when it visits, and steals away the fun, whilst I remember the joy of the egg hunt. I was playing, without realising the implications.

I hope the Naughty Easter Bunny has not spoiled the magic of the generous Easter Bunny who always shows up! Maybe it will become a funny story down the line, but this is a year for repair. There will be no Naughty Easter Bunny to dampen her joy. Instead, Auntie Jo has sent a parcel of animals from the Cayman Easter Bunny for the niblings to share amongst themselves. Perhaps I should’ve included a letter saying the Cayman bunny had heard about the naughty bunny from last year, and that it had promised to be kind from now on. Instead, I posted these gifts, knowing they too might cause some conflict. There are five nieces and nephews in total, and whilst I tried, I was not able to gather five of every type of gift. The family dynamics are reasonably easy to predict so I am hoping it will work out ok without trauma this year. Hopefully the children, and the gifts, are different enough to match their various likes and dislikes- maybe the extra dinosaurs for the youngest, and the shiny ones for the oldest, who I expect will be kind and allow the youngest to choose anyway.

The narwals are the best, and there is a narwal for everyone. Except the adults. They will have to fight over the left overs, but that’s what parents usually do, right?!

This year Auntie Jo will be having Easter lunch with her Cayman friends, and despite attempting to book three weeks ago, we weren’t organised enough to get a table at our first choice restaurant. We have a booking for another place which looks amazing, but is not the traditional Cayman option that we’d wanted.

Brunch.

What does brunch mean to you?

Maybe close your eyes for a moment. Imagine yourself sitting in a chair, feet on the ground, and hands by your side. You are patiently waiting for your brunch. What sounds can you hear as they’re getting it ready for you? As they’re cooking it, and bringing it to the table- what can you smell? What picture do you have in your head? What do you anticipate cutting up with your cutlery? What tastes you you anticipate?

Do you have a good image?

My brain struggles to do this exercise now! Let me explain why.

Back in the UK brunch had a particular meaning. There, the mention of brunch might involve a lazy morning in bed before heading out to a great café where I’d lazily peruse a menu with offerings such as fruit and yoghurt, a full English breakfast, smashed avocado on sourdough toast, poached egg and smoked salmon with hollandaise. Coffee, teas, juices.

It was a comfortable and comforting thing to imagine.

Now my mind is conflicted. Brunch in Cayman is a very different affair. Not better, but vastly different.

Brunch is something you start to prepare for the day before. You eat lightly. Then on the day, you put away your slouchy wear and reach for something fancy. You do your hair, make yourself look nice, and if you’re going for the bottomless fizz option, you plan how you’re going to get home. At the restaurant the only menu you’ll be given is likely to be one listing cocktails. All the food is already out on tables for you to choose with all your senses.

Imagine tables filled with selections of appetisers- sushi, oysters, smoked salmon, blinis, tiny eggs, pate, soup. Or, if you want your trad brunch, a breakfast bar with streaky bacon, eggs done many ways, toast and fruit. Add a carvery station serving roast meats, crackling, vegetables, roast potatoes, alongside fish, curry, noodles, and rice. If none of those take your fancy, or don’t fill you up, there’s a pasta section with spaghetti, tortellini, sauces and garlic bread.

You take a plate, or a bowl, and get started.

Once you’ve eaten what’s on that plate, the staff collect it, and you go for more.

If you’re on the fizz, the glass will be filled as you talk, or walk back to the food for more.

Then there’s plenty more to choose from- tiny cakes and puddings, a chocolate fountain and fruit, and ice cream for warm bread and butter pudding.

You want more? Sure- there’s a selection of cheese, with a rich glass of port to round it all off.

You will not go home hungry.

This is Cayman Brunch.

In the UK the word that I would have typically used for this food extravaganza would be a buffet. Use that here and some people get quite upset!

‘It’s Brunch.’

Yes, but it’s also a buffet.

My brain still struggles to make this adjustment. My idea of brunch is lazy and relaxed, and slow. I might leave feeling full, but without the waistline expanding bottomless food and post-booze snooze in the middle of the day!

I overheard a post-brunch party of people in the pool a few weeks ago. They considered what they had just eaten and drunk, concluding that the restauranteurs had made zero profit from them, as if they had just gained a promotion!

I have had one Cayman brunch buffet experience, but I am also glad that tomorrow I shall not have to resist going up for another plate to fill, or feel the guilt of leaving food uneaten on my plate, because there is more to try that might be even nicer.

The Easter Bunny is not going to visit me tomorrow, naughty or nice, but I am going to treat myself to a rare cocktail and rest on the beach, if I can find a space! An Easter tradition here in Cayman is for families to camp on the beaches. There are no campsites, and a small window of permission opens, allowing the public to camp on the public beaches. As with brunch, reservations are made many weeks in advance, with boards put up on trees claiming the space! I walked past some of these camps yesterday, marvelling at the use of pallets to build living rooms and kitchens outside. The weather has been kind and I hope it continues to be dry so these families can enjoy their camping experiences.

Every season in a new place brings something new. This week has shown how words can expand to mean different things. Meaning is not as fixed as we can think. Words are merely signifiers, and always relative. Those that we thought we knew well expand with new experiences, and become new ways of understanding the world. My memories of brunch do not disappear, and nor do they have to, but Cayman has given new experiences that allow space for a new meaning, so the word comes to contain much more.