|
|
|
| Current Issue |
|
|
| Resources |
|
|
|
Moving in Memory
| Article
# : |
13545 |
|
|
Section : |
THE ARTS
|
| Issue
Date : |
4 / 1988 |
1,022 Words |
| Author
: |
Julia Randall
Julia Randall is a poet living in Maryland. Her latest
collection of verse is Moving in Memory. |
Recipes
When, late from France, I introduced
quiches to the campus, they became so common
I felt compelled to change my specialty.
It couldn't be cassoulet; you couldn't get
the Toulouse sausages. It couldn't be langoustines.
How often I wish
Americans could learn to grow crawfish.
Of course I gave my recipes away.
Last night I gave Esterlee
the zucchini casserole, and she'll give it to Jessie,
and so it goes. No keeping a secret. I may revert
to Maryland chicken and angel cake. The fit survive,
and the raw materials
don't change much in a lifetime, but they change:
there was no tea at Stonehenge. It's hard to think back--
no beans, no wheat--
but somehow there was always something to eat.
So much is fixed, but how it's mixed
with foreign influence, like wars,
weather, and trade winds, genes
and genius, who's to tell?
I poach the flounder in my mother's dish.
The scholars say my mother was a fish.
The strict constructionists say man
strutted on two legs of his own
all around Eden. Maybe he did,
sharing his recipe with only God, and his spare rib
with woman.
She found apples
good eating. Naturally she shared.
She discovered blood,
guts, seasonings; how to make stock; how
...
Read Full Article
Look for this article in Ask.com
|
|
