Chopping
This baby is sucking the life out of me, my daughter says, and I want to return with Just you wait, but I don’t, because I know how annoying mothers can be, always sounding warnings. Instead, I stand chopping—onions, celery, a breast and a thigh from a chicken—making a thin soup that will pass through...
Three Bites
1. Peepop’s Bite In the space between his dwindling mind and his lost body, my Peepop Marcus nurtured one of the few remaining original items in his mouth: his sweet tooth. He had a gentle way of eating—like a well-mannered aristocrat—which belied the ferocity with which he loved cake. He had an endless fix, too,...
Four Menus
1. We’re eating Korean soup tonight. Yook gae jang — shredded beef with cellophane noodles, scallions, and some long, fibrous mysterious vegetable. And spice — mouthfuls of red oil that make my nose run and my tongue sing. I am in love with the man across the table whose nose is running too. We glisten and are happy. Happiness is...
In My Aunt’s Apartment
There was a place in my aunt’s apartment, high on a shelf, in the kitchen, above the dishwasher, in a large glass jar with a white screw-on lid, where she kept the dog biscuits. Whenever my sister and I came to visit, my aunt would take the jar down from its shelf and give us...
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