The poem that follows is a collage by Melissa Mylchreest. Such poems are sometimes called centos, after a Latin word for a cloak made of patches. The pieces, in this case, were found on Groove Food. Freshly experiencing words and sentences I had stewed on was the most delightful gift. While my heart is tied to so much of it, this poem is equally (if not disproportionately more) Melissa. A meditation on food and language--and how we have no choice but to share them.
The Chef Writes a Letter to Her Young Daughters
A collage from the writing of chef Lauren Mitchell Wilkinson
At some point, it will inevitably get cold
where you are, and I want you armed
with this recipe. Let me share, coquettish
little things that you are: love is a rare find
in a meal, but I am built to give
a cluster of Chioggia beets every ounce
of my attention. When I dream onion
half moons, a jar suffused with landscape
and season, a sprinkle of sea salt from above,
it is part of a bottomless affinity. As a girl
I imagined I’d have a house
with a jukebox and Bellagio fountains
in the yard. I had no idea. A memory, a story,
a flavor, a wish. A sudden gift of honey. All I have
come home to.
Use whatever you have on hand,
something flashy and red, something wild
and fresh. Food is a gesture, sympathy,
celebration. I spent seven years suspended in lust
over a panna cotta. It is luscious, it will woo you.
Find a man as good; it is hard to imagine
being treated any other way. As you, my daughters,
things are better in pairs. Cucumber and wasabi,
goat cheese and fig jam, roasted marshmallows
and white wine. When you are lost in cities, take a long
walk, past the waves and empty sky, find your way
to the nearest fromagerie. Sit out on the steps
behind the bustling Italian place, fragrant
beneath the stars. Chiabatta, pane di segale. Part of fullness
is longing, half each hunger and loss.
You will grow up
amid a theater of restaurants, a sea
of white tablecloths. I am not sorry. I am tempted
to call this Eden, views of the Pacific, Dungeness
crabs in coconut and lime, bowls and blades,
messy piles of cilantro, a great teacher
on the natural state of fearlessness. Order
Shirley Temples in champagne glasses, bask
in Vahlrona and Scharffenberger. Believe
in the tender perfection of farm tables and aubergines.
Don’t do the most ladylike thing, but be always like
caramel, innocence and hedonism both.
- Melissa Mylchreest
Notes
* The photograph in this post is courtesy of Melissa Mylchreest
* Ten Bites Interview with Melissa here.