Let There Be More Spices

1 In the beginning there was only absence. Of flavor. 2 The table of my youth was a darkness of bland, the burden of my mother’s type I diabetes baked into every surface. So as I stared at the jar of lard my new mother-in-law kept on the stove I felt myself hovering over the seas of my own inadequacies. For everyone’s benefit, I was assigned plates, cups, and crockpot dips at the family potlucks. I was twenty-one years old.

3 And I looked around and said, “All these motherfuckers around me put salt and sugar in everything,” and for the first time at my table, there was salt and sugar. 4 My new husband tasted that the food was good. 5 We sat at our second-hand kitchen table in our 600 square foot apartment, called the salt “sharp,” and the sugar we called “sweet.” And something collided in my brain.

6 So one day I said, “Let there be more spices.” 7 Our cabinet space was small, as was our grocery budget. I separated jars by color and ran my fingers over the half-moons of glass. And it was so. 8 I called my new husband to the “spice cabinet.” And there was cumin, and there was chili powder. My new husband said, “Let’s make chili this weekend.”

9 And another time I said, “Let the space under my vegetables be seasoned with wine, and let them be topped with oregano.” And it was so. 10 I called the vegetables “sauteed” and served them to my husband with fresh farfalle, some parmesan, and spring mix. And my husband said it was good (and kind of fancy).

11 After I was twenty-two and my husband was no longer new I said, “Let us add a baby to our family.” And it was so. 12 I blended peas and spinach with breast milk and stored them in ice cube trays. When I was finished blending and feeding and washing and snuggling, I threw chicken nuggets into the oven and drenched them in ranch dressing because I was too tired to fuck with seasoning. 13 And my family said it was good. And I was grateful and exhausted.

14 And one day after we had moved to a house of our own and had another kid I said, “There is very little peace in life. Let me take edibles on Sundays and chop ingredients. There will be homemade salad dressings, chicken marinated in cilantro and lime 15 and I will be a food mistress in this dark vault to give light on the earth.” And it was so. 16 I made the greater efforts for when I was hosting and the lesser efforts for when I was contributing. I also made cocktails. 17 I set my contributions on the tables to give my new light on the earth, 18 And I saw that it was good. 19 And my sisters-in-law told me to stick to crock pot dip. And my mother said she hated cilantro. And my husband said, “You get high too much.”

20 And I said, “My family gives me more joy than tuning out and chopping.” 21 I grew up and refocused, creating new dishes inspired by great creatures of the sea and every winged bird. And I saw that it was good. 22 I massaged kale and served it with beets and said, “You’re going to love this salad.” 23 And my friend said, “Did you know shallots are onions for pretentious white people?”

24 And I said, “Let me produce meals for all of the living creatures whom I love, even if they’re dicks about the use of shallots.” And it was so. 25 I made proteins and a green vegetable every night, and my family ate according to their palates. And I saw that it was good.

26 Then one day I said, “My mother is dead, and my children– who were created in my likeness– are no longer at home. Let us work together, spouse and spouse, to rule over our table. We will make curries and homemade black bean burgers and watch our added sugars because we are old now.”

27 So we created a table in the spirit of curiosity,
in the spirit of nourishment we created;
For love and sex we created.

28 And even as I rested, I felt a sea of inadequacy.

29 But also blessed.

30 And I saw that it was good.
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