Off to Market

My eyes flicker, a struggle to focus.

The smell of Hugo Boss trails out the door
 
My socks I had kicked off the night before
Rolled up in the sheets, I search and give up
Bare feet on marble tile will do.

Bright sunny morning, no curtains

The windows wide with sunshine

He wore blue every day. Air force Captain

Sharp creases, perfectly aligned golden buttons
The brim of cap shadowed his eyes.

The clink of a spoon in his Illy coffee mug

Blended himself. Yogurt, with peaches. Fruit on the bottom.
Breakfast of a Captain.

Crumbs on the counter, a banana peel

Poking out of the trash can.
Why are there still no curtains?

I wore a green dress, cotton

Deep neckline, wooden hoops in my ears
Equipped with my floppy sunhat
I, A Girl who Likes to Cook goes
Off to Market.

Byward. Next stop, the bus unloads

Tourists, summer camp students, business men
Men in uniform. Fatigues of green, polished boots.

I brush my cheeks, warm.

A smile creeps up on the corner of my lips.

Uniforms...

My wicker shopping bag empty. Waiting to be filled

The heal of my espadrille snags the cobble stone walk way.
I stumble but catch balance.

The honk of a Vespa, as I glare back

A cheeky man behind the wheel smiles.

Rows of stalls, blueberries and raspberries

Summer jewels, $2 a pint
Cherries? Or Cherry tomatoes?
Yellow cherry tomatoes or red?

Both...

$3 a pint, one of each

The toasty smell of baguettes

Almond sweetness of macaroons coconutty & chewy
Chocolate drizzle.

2 Macaroons and an espresso make for a nice break
$8.50, one chiabatta loaf, $3.99.

Fish? He doesn't like fish.

Smoked salmon, maybe? 6 slices
$12.00

Blueberries, now 3/4 of a pint
Lips are violet, finger tips too.
Fresh lemonade to wash it down?

Pass...

My eyes spot verdant greens.

Dill, chives, and rosemary.
One bunch of basil, I double check the leaves
No damaged sprigs, I'll take 2.
$4.50

The jingle of a door bell,

I enter the slightly chilled store
A rickety fan spinning on the ceiling

I sample the dairy delights.

Havarti, Cheddar, Gouda, Fontina.
Second sample of the Havarti please.
I leave with 3 pieces of Buffalo Mozzarella

$17.00

Swerving through stony alley ways

The summer breeze floating across my green dress
My nose and my taste buds take me on a tour

The snap of haricot vert

The pungent aroma of shallots
The salty cured slices of prosciutto
And sopressata. Nuggets of fat melt on my tongue.

A wicker shopping bag bursting at the seams

Sweat on my brow
A floppy white sunhat acts as my fan
As I wave it over my shiny face.

A slow journey back to the flat with no curtains

Espadrilles off, sunhat on the counter
A hungry officer waits

So goes a day

Off to market and back…

Xox,

A Girl Who Likes to Cook

 

Pride: As Recited by Nanny

She had soft silky skin even at age 63
Nails beautifully shaped
Epitome of class and elegance

Once the wife of the aristocrat &
Life partner of a Business man

An ivory white cane in the left hand
Pressing down the cushion of the chair with her right

Her hair whisked neatly as always
In a roll at the base of her head
In her ear lobes rested golden studs

I sat on the floor at her feet.
My degree in an envelope 
Eager to share my success

She smiled but that's it. No words to share
No comments made.
A little bit of confusion mixed with sadness
Especially being the first...in everything
 
She said my name softly
And she followed with a question.

You have a pen and paper?

I dug through my purse and found a
Tattered and crumpled opened bank statement.  The back of the envelope was blank. This should suffice I thought.

A blotchy blue pen to follow, no lid but still worked

She began to recite:

Half carton Colourin' - should be black
Three-quarta pound Demerara sugga
One pound Butta

You gon need half pound each:
Dry Currants
Dry Prunes
Dry Raisins
Dry Figs
Dry Cherries
Mix peel is nice, mus put only Quarta pound

You can use too de cranberries, dry...umm wha you call it? Not peach, de other one...Pammy! Wa you does call...APRICOTS.  Yes you can use this too

You ga soak it from now.  I use a nice nice sweet red wine.  One bottle.  Throw one bottle Rum too.  Those two you need.  Don't worry with brandy an'all. 

2 to 3 months it need to soak.

It's now August, I thought.
A rose coloured coffee mug was now in her hand
On a plate on the edge of the seat beside her, sat the Bran muffin I baked her - sugar free

When I was your age, I had 5 out of de 7 of my children.
You mommy and your uncle used to steal de jar of nut-butta
Run and hide under the bed and eat like Christmas!

Lilian use to catch dem by de ears and put some lix on them.
Cry!

She laughed out loud. Her voice still soft and raspy.

I miss her laugh...I really do

When it reach time to make it, you mus grine the fruits.
Fine fine
Pick the stems and all out first. 

Beat the butta and the sugga. It gotta change colour. Almost white
Den you trow the colourin' (which I soon discovered was black-strap molasses, go figure)
Half dozen or 8 eggs. Beat that too, and put inside.
It gon look watery like.  Don't worry. Once you put the grine fruits, it gon catch-up itself.

Take you flour, baking powda and so-much salt (she showed the measurement with her index finger and thumb)

You need to make sure it has spice first before
Clove, lil nutmeg, cinnamon, and pimento, you can grate the fresh ginger inside
Pimento like dem Jamaican does use for Jerk chicken (aka all-spice mom explained)
Mus trow your flour easy easy. Not all one-time. 

Her instructions coupled with her hand actions
Made for an interesting story-telling moment
Like theatre, her expressions were grand

Appearing beside me was a bowl
Four amber brown orbs sit, the scent of cinnamon & nutmeg
Black chewy jewels of raisins peaked out
A hint of banana - Gulgula and a cup of tea.

Oven gotta be slow.  It gon take 2 hour fa bake
Y'all use electric, Guyana I using the gas.
Flour you pan and allow to cook slow

When it done, pour rum over it.
It will take one whole bottle rum.
And dat is it!

That's it. Okay, that is it then.
My degree sat on the top of a side table
Next to a lamp.

Not sure what to think. Or what to say.
I wrote deligently regardless, as per request.

I was 16 when I marry your grandfather.
Didn't know anything. See him once before on
The engagement day.

He had left me in a big house to run supplies up Essiquebou River then
Come back. I didn't know to cook.
He had gone to Trinidad and use to bring nice things back for me

"West Indian Cookery"...Small red book he bring back one time.
I still got it. It got everything inside.

I had 7 children. I cooked from dat book. All 7 big now, got big children of their own.
13 of y'all.

She fell silent. Then distant. She sighed as if her memories were running away from her and she was running to catch up. As if to put her out of breath.

And then she glaced down at me.
Kind of smiling, and in a way kind of not.

I sat with folded legs, a creased evelop and a pen.

She stood up bracing her balance with her cane
Her coffee mug and saucer in her free hand
Waltzing slowly towards the kitchen.

This Christmas you will make it. And you will tell me, right?

Just try and see, it gon work out.

With all my love,

A Girl Who Likes to Cook
xo

 

Flavour Amiss

Missing you is like...
Hot oven baked apples
At the open of autumn

Without the kiss of cinnamon

Missing you is like...
Standing in front of the ice cream truck
Waiting for my chocolate-vanilla swirl cone

Without the rainbow sprinkles

Missing you is like...
Rich tomato sauce red and robust
Pitching and popping on a stove top

Without the torn slivers of sweet basil

Missing you is like...
A warm loaf of banana bread
Brimming over the edge of a tattered tin

Without the crunchy interjections of toasted walnuts

Missing you is like...
Sunday morning breakfasts
Fluffy flapjacks with golden edges and eggs so yellow

Without a glistening glugs of maple cheer up

Missing you is chicken noodle soup without the crumbled shards of saltine crackers 

Is my mid-night corn flakes without a crystal-like dusting of sugar on top

Is blueberry pie, violet bulbs of Blue, a jam tangy and tart without the 'a la mode'

Or moist crumble of a decadent pound cake without a slathering of homemade strawberry preserves

Like a gently steeped cup of tea
Without the ivory splash of chilled milk

Missing you is like going hungry

No craving for life's tasty wonders
No desire to indulge in this epicurian world

Like flavours have become meaningless 
Flavours without life...

Like flavours are amiss

Xo,

A Girl Who Likes to Cook

...In a Pan

She had an infectious giggle
Charming and outgoing smile
We clicked, a life long friendship
Started here...

A sloppy slice was laid out on a plastic plate
Sandy graham cracker crumbs scattered

Like a hot mess -I thought

Shards of cracked chocolate bars
Jutting out like a jagged mountain peaks
Through those billowing fluffs of Chantilly cream
Vanilla clouds of sweet

My knee bobbed on the rung of bar stool
Elbow and arm propping my head up
Romantic glow in her dark kitchen

Muddy swirl of butterscotch and fudge
Rich cocao sharpness with a touch of gold
Buttery custard

An unlikely couple
Pudding monogamy 
Match made so heavenly

Interrupting the choco-butter marriage
A tangy cheesecake middle
Undone now...I'm more intrigued 

She slides the plate over to me
The hum of the florescent lights
The chirp of crickets through the window
The house was still

Just me, just her

Better than sex she promises
A grin passes across her face
Her lips unzip to reveal
A smile, a little sinister.

I pushed my fork through 
Soft and light
The dessert reached my tongue

My chest fell
The creamy chocolate melted 
I bit down gently on the candy

I was speechless
Joyous flavours, pleasure of 
A fudge flirtation
Bold butterscotch

Shameless whip cream 
Sits on the corners of my lip

A little moan of approval

A rush through my taste buds

I sigh amd breathe in and breathe out

Heavy.

I taste what she described

And what she described...

Simple ecstasy

She giggles again.
Best girl friends
Thoughts in unison

A tiny death

Like Sex in a Pan