Tiny Recipe Cards in my Head
They come to me,
Tiny recipe cards,
Waves of flavors, memories of people, places,
Scribbled on paper, post-it notes, backs of envelopes,
Filed in my head
No reason why they pop up,
Why the cabinet of my brain chooses them at that moment,
Mary’s turmeric eggs, her masala veggies,
Mama’s gravy,
Elle’s pasta with mini cubes of cheddar mixed in,
That fluffy focaccia Naomi baked one Sunday,
‘Swansea Tapas’
They pop in and out,
Memories not only from the past
But from places far away where I once was,
Reminding me of people I love,
And people I once knew.
Recipes of the Heart
I recall the age of seven,
Watching Ma cook,
I open her massive recipe book,
With dust swarming the air
My fingers cramping
From the weight of hundreds of pages
I ask which page she’s on,
Which recipe she’s following,
To which she opens instructions
That I can’t quite piece together just watching her,
Where she herself wouldn’t know which step she’s on.
Shreyan, two at the time,
Swinging his legs from his little dining chair
With turmeric stained all around his mouth
Flavors and textures
That couldn’t quite be put into words
Yet an embodiment of nostalgia
A balance I could only recreate
With eyeballed measurements,
Recipes with no true calculation,
Yet a full serving
Shoilee Mandal is a high school sophomore in New York City. She finds inspiration for art and writing through the…
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