I wanted to be a part of their club, their conversations, their laughter. Eating, I decided, was my way in.
Category: food
ONE POEM – Atma Frans
They’re small animals
wriggling to get out
Just let us touch the crust, they say
feel it crackle
COMFORT FOODS // Cooke’s Pie & Mash Shop – Jonella Vidal
My memories can be quantified in cups of tea,
and meat pies filled perfectly, slumped against
a mountain of mash
COMFORT FOODS // Ode to the Palta – Ulrike Durán Bravo
…across the bitter world, a sweet gift from Pachamama
like my father who taught me to feel
and press its skin: a map of lost worlds
Love in the Age of Instant Mashed Potatoes – Anne-Laure White
The first potatoes I loved were the dehydrated shreds sold in cereal box-style cartons at Key Foods. My mother gave them some delicacy, stirring in milk, butter, salt. On holidays her mashed potatoes were perfect, and doted on accordingly. They were adjusted hourly for flavour and texture, refrigerated overnight, and reheated slowly on the day….
Favorite Recipes – Ann Levin
I can still see her today. Tall, blond, and statuesque, a platinum-haired goddess with perfect teeth and a year-round tan. She was standing in the middle of the dance floor at my parents’ annual Christmas party – except it wasn’t really a dance floor. It was the dining room of our house, but with all…
Tea for a Pandemic – Terry Kirts
1. My grandmother was a kitchen singer, an apron wearer who trilled the rs and drew out the tra-la-las in all the old songs while she kneaded bread dough or blanched tomatoes. Some days growing up, I spent more time in her windswept farmhouse outside of town than I did in my own home, my…
My One of The Kind Relationship to Chinese Food – Chris Liberato
Before I became a more adventurous eater in my late twenties, my appreciation for traditional Asian food consisted of the bowls of phở that my friends would seek out when we visited Boston. I was fascinated in particular with how my chef friend Charlie approached his noodles: requesting his steak served raw on a side…
Oysters – Lynne Golodner
The oysters arrived on a paper plate, craggy half-shells pooling ocean brine. A server slung a basket of napkins, vinegar and cocktail sauce on the table. Dan lifted a shell and slurped. I forked one and bit into the softness, closing my eyes. I breathed in through my nose to taste more fully. These were…
Lemons – Victory Witherkeigh
“You made it, Grandma!” I said as I gave her a hug. The gold tassel swished in my face from the graduation cap I hadn’t removed yet. “I’ve been to all your graduations, Iha,” she replied in a huff, “And, I’ll be at the next one.” I gripped her hand as she steadied herself with…
THREE POEMS – Susan Moon
My mother packed eggs sunny side up,
Spam slices golden-browned to perfection
tucked into my lunchbox.
My Unsung Sheroes – Susan Moon
Just a spoonful satisfyingly sears on the way down, tickling all the microvilli on its magic school bus trip through the body. A taste so tangy, a flavor so fearless. Anything but diluted, the way I’d always told myself to be.
Porridge 