roasting garlic in a pan of butter tends to make me think everything will be okay. you strip the green vegies. i drink the white wine. we are marinating. or tenderizing. i’m somewhat confused about this recipe.
i concede about two ovens though. sometimes you want what you want.
i apologize for ever saying you were a food snob. i can be acerbic, but i can also choose to be unsalty. too much salt was always your concern in the kitchen. too much can’t be taken back.
hits us
like clockwork
— we’re hungry,
and happy, and
slightly amused
by the bra-lessness
of the five of us
(mother like daughters)
moving our shoulders
hips, and stockinged
feet across the kitchen floor
— the only man ever watching us
croons, “wow you’re beautiful,”
but i’m otherwise interested
in chopping onions and
letting Dean Martin’s voice coax
my body to sway in a dastard
display of playfulness
i often swim in and out of
like the perfumed fish that i am
::
how did Susie know I danced last night? 😀 for Toads
when I forgot the onions
it was weird and we wondered
what the heck was missing
so i typed it all out for you
because i could see how my
tattered snappy soups
salads and sandwiches page
from quick cooking could be
a tad bit embarrassing
in your new college kitchen
-and you know how we usually wallop
a bag of walnuts with whatever
soup can we have in the cupboard?
you probably shouldn’t do that.
i used to use my mallet
which I swear one of you kids broke
and disposed of secretly
because a heavy-ended mallet
just doesn’t sprout legs
and walk away on its own
now does it?? hmmm
i might buy you a mallet
to crush your walnuts
or a small food processor
-and don’t forget to put a big squeeze
of ketchup on top
a good Tablespoon kiss
before you dig in &mix it all up
with your hands, shape into patties,
and fry it on the pan.
a sort of ingredient list for Real Toads
Dominic at summer camp had caramel brown skin,
Half adult/half baby teeth, and two doe eyes that sparkled
When he talked about how his left hand was faster
When drumming his fingers on the table. He could drum.
But one time his face fell off when dinner just started.
An empty taco shell sat on his eggshell dinner plate.
Other campers went on smearing beans inside corn holders,
Saying pass the cheese, pass the sour cream, the lettuce.
But Dominic’s face had fallen off. He had no mouth,
So the big man at the table took him by the hand
Away from the mess hall, away from his sadness.
Sadness was what it was, then, as sadness usually is.
And I don’t know what the big man said, but I can guess
How the big man said it, because when the boy came back
He asked for a mountain of rice. A pile so high. So high
It touched the sky, seasoned with tomatoes and salt.
Boy, could he eat. I watched him eat one mountain, then two.
for Real Toads
McPherson, KS: Mother nurses me with a warm bottle in the Pontiac GTO as I watch the windshield wipers wipe.
San Antonio, TX: Carlos, our next door neighbor, throws a party where I taste frijoles for the first time and love them so much that he gives my parents extra for me to eat mãs on Sunday.
Denver, CO: It’s our first family vacation, and I order a cheese omelet with green peppers while Pike’s Peak mountain keeps an eagle eye on me through a giant picture window.
Abilene, KS: The household ban on spaghetti is lifted for my 12th birthday.
Manhattan, KS: Dad and I sit on the back of his beat-up Ford tailgate taste-testing my new college delight: Gyros.
Sterling, KS: Study break run to Kwik Shop for Jiffy blueberry muffin mix and M & M’s with new guy.
Bastanchury Hill, CA: This guy again with port wine cheese and crackers in his car overlooking Orange County.
Greeley, CO: Richard Scott’s grilled hamburgers every Wednesday night in the Nazarene church basement (put your money in the basket).
Wrightwood, CA: Fernando, who is the best summer camp cook ever, reveals his secret guacamole recipe to us. Of course we write it down.
[For Krissy at Kneal1Poetry]
If you’d like to write 10 sentences about love, click the link and consider this your invitation to love. ❤
“I’m unaware of how poor I am until I search my cupboards for optimism and find none.”
Scratch that.
I hate how I go for ‘cryptic’ in an attempt to polish up ‘crappy.’ Between a cancelled vacation, my husband being laid up all month with a bad back, waking our four children up from their summer comatose state for school, keeping up with household chores, mowing the lawn, etc., etc., I’m no ray of sunshine. I even catch my cynical self thinking, Come on, Bethany Hamilton, your arm was ripped off by a shark! Were you really so darn positive?! I roll my eyes and let the kids watch the movie in the living room.
Extended family asks how I am handling everything. I lie and say, “I’m good,” but I know I’ve got to change my attitude, for him, for them and for me. Right now, of course, there’s nothing to eat and everyone’s starving. Divinely inspired (I believe) by the food channel, I decide to do something I’ve never done before. I will wing it, and trust my instincts. I will scrounge for what we have in the fridge (nothing new), but this time I will boldly toss together new and exciting combinations before serving it on my ever cheerful heart-rimmed plates—relics my newlywed days.
Like an unclaimed portion of Alaska in the freezer, I discover frozen brown rice huddled alongside fish sticks. Who cares if the kids won’t want it, I’m making it anyway. I think barbecue sauce sounds good. Not sure if it will go with fish, but I vow to go with what speaks to me. I plate a round bed of the heart healthy rice and then drizzle sauce thick as molasses (is it expired?) in zigzags over it and lay a few fish sticks on top. What this needs is some happy oranges. I release smiling mandarins from their holding can and cut them into even smaller pieces along with the fish. I will throw in some coriander (whoa, that’s not typical), and yes–dill weed.
Voila–my plate of sunshine is a feast for the senses and the soul. So, I suppose this experience sort of fits the old cliché “if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen,” only with a twist, “If you can’t take the heat, get inventive in the kitchen.” I’m thinking sunny-side up eggs for breakfast might be a nice change from scrambled. Tomorrow might not be as bad as it seems. Hmmm, is my optimism returning? I know, I know. From cryptic to cliché–gag. But let’s not be cynical. Go eat something.
finely spun material 