When she sets the jarred fruit in a bright window to ripen, her son suggests “Why don’t you just microwave it?” He is so like his father—he never wants to wait for anything, but the woman knows what it is to track the sun from east to west, the path bitter as a reckoning, but curved enough for light to follow.
In her son’s American kitchen, she makes lemon pickles. She slices the unblemished fruits with her wedding knife, crushes chili and methi seeds in her old mortar and pestle. Her eyes fill, and she blames the smoking oil.
When she sets the jarred fruit in a bright window to ripen, her son suggests “Why don’t you just microwave it?” He is so like his father—he never wants to wait for anything, but the woman knows what it is to track the sun from east to west, the path bitter as a reckoning, but curved enough for light to follow.
Paul Freeman
30/6/2023 12:27:26 pm
Wisdom in cooking, indeed. In my kitchen, my son's the guru and I'm the microwaving novice. 1/7/2023 06:11:09 pm
Hi Paul. Thanks for commenting! Microwaves scare me, but I don't know why. I still do everything the old way, except ripen lemon pickles in windows for a month.
Rashna Tessa Walton
30/6/2023 12:52:07 pm
Beautifully worded.
Sue Clayton
2/7/2023 08:14:22 am
Anything worthwhile take time and effort.
Cheryl Snell
3/7/2023 02:06:08 am
It does! Thanks for visiting, Sue. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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