11.12.2010

Peeled

I watch him shove the boiled yucca
I made to go with his rice and chicken
and am not shocked when the response
isn't overwhelmingly enthusiastic
even for a food connoisseur.

"It's a little bland," he breaks it.
"Maybe if it was cooked with garlic..."

Ah, garlic. The solution to everything, vampires included.

"It's been years since I've had it," I confess. "My grandma used
to make it back when she could be trusted to use the stove."

He chews, trying to like the root vegetable staple
so familiar to Puerto Ricans and other Latin cultures.
For a blonde-hair, blue-eyed German
he's trying admirably hard.

"Try adding more salt," I suggest. "It's basically a vessel
for that and olive oil." My words sound apologetic
but I don't begrudge the flavor. In fact, I'm taking my time
making sure the white, fibrous Puerto Rican potato
mixes with the yellow rice and garlic-marinated chicken
in every nostalgic bite.

How much of our childhoods were exactly that?
More, thankfully, than those that pale in adulthood comparison.

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