04-01-2018, 04:40 PM
Day #1 Too many cooks ...
My mother appears as I chop apples.
‘You should have cored them’ but
why bother when they simmer,
skin, flesh, and cores, together?
I peel feijoas over the pot
so their skin falls in with the apples.
An old pillowcase becomes a jelly bag.
Leon’s mother calls ‘Don’t you have an old
pair of tights?’ No, Stasia, love, I don’t.
The pulp eventually drips through.
I drop chopped feijoas into the liquid.
Damn. I forgot to weight the fruit.
Auntie Win breezes by, mixing by guess
her always perfect scones, grinning.
‘Have faith!’ I add three cups of sugar,
a knob of butter to stop foaming.
Three hours at slow simmer, stirring
every three minutes. Relentless.
I open wine. My tiny galley kitchen hums,
replete with ghosts and memories that blend
into the feijoa scents: pineapple, banana,
mint, strawberry, guava.
Finally poured to set, I label this batch
‘Family Feijoa Paste’.
It’s perfect.
My mother appears as I chop apples.
‘You should have cored them’ but
why bother when they simmer,
skin, flesh, and cores, together?
I peel feijoas over the pot
so their skin falls in with the apples.
An old pillowcase becomes a jelly bag.
Leon’s mother calls ‘Don’t you have an old
pair of tights?’ No, Stasia, love, I don’t.
The pulp eventually drips through.
I drop chopped feijoas into the liquid.
Damn. I forgot to weight the fruit.
Auntie Win breezes by, mixing by guess
her always perfect scones, grinning.
‘Have faith!’ I add three cups of sugar,
a knob of butter to stop foaming.
Three hours at slow simmer, stirring
every three minutes. Relentless.
I open wine. My tiny galley kitchen hums,
replete with ghosts and memories that blend
into the feijoa scents: pineapple, banana,
mint, strawberry, guava.
Finally poured to set, I label this batch
‘Family Feijoa Paste’.
It’s perfect.