Though not at all traditional, cheesecake is an au courant menu item here in Sarajevo. When we mention to people that we are looking for a dessert, they jump to tell us which restaurant serves their favorite cheesecake. An American woman in our tiny church group is a professional baker. This weekend she is making five different varieties of cheesecake and invited us and any friends to come to a tasting party.
One of the fathers of Isaac’s classmate speaks very good English and has often translated for me when my Bosnian fails me. So I invited him and his family to come with us to the cheesecake tasting party.
“Yes, yes,” he said, nodding and reading the flyer I gave him with the details of the party. “I will talk to my wife about it.” He tucked the flyer into his pocket, and there was a moment of silence. “There is just one teensy problem” (see how good his English is? He even uses “teensy”!).
“Oh?” I asked.
He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I hate cheesecake.”
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