bibimmyeon at noon, orange glinting off leafy glaze and window glimmer, halmoni sets the bowl before me, gloved, varicose hands sifting light and color: bone-white, the red gochu seeped through,…
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“And then it is another day and another, but I will not go on about this because no doubt you too have experienced time.” — Jenny Offill, Weather *** A…
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I weigh the pasta with a kitchen scale. I am trying to use up random leftovers from the back of the pantry: half a bag of penne, a handful of…
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Fork in hand, I mashed four thawed bananas—on the advice of the internet, I’d taken to freezing them in plastic bags—into about four ounces of applesauce. Vanilla extract entered next.…
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“I portioned that so we’d have enough for tomorrow,” John says. “It’s just a few pieces of broccoli.” “But we’re having salad tonight.” “It’s not enough,” I snap back. John…
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(or, How a Year with Covid-19 Shaped My Czech American Family, One Meal at a Time) It’s 7 a.m. on Tuesday morning; I’m sautéing onions and fresh spinach while calling…
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My hands don’t look like my own. They remind me of my mother’s in her wedding photos. (Are wedding photos taken for the sole purpose of perfecting the image of…
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Orchard Grove is a squat windowless building with a green shingled overhang beveled around wooden soffits. I used to walk there from Gerry Rushlow’s farm. Or was it Sally Rushlow’s…
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A couple of weeks before COVID-19 closed down all the restaurants in NYC, Paul the server was standing in the kitchen, waiting for a pasta course to be plated. Paul…
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Before we could identify both its virus and disease names. Before our painter, Mark came and fingered the hairline cracks in my office walls, not erasing, but following their lead…
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When I make bread, I focus on the feel of the dough, the windowpane test for gluten elasticity, the delicate question of adding a pinch of flour. Will it turn…
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When my daughter Magda was four months old, we flew to California for a vacation. We were living in Rochester, New York, where it was still icy, gray winter, and…
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i. The tea ceremony lessons had been my husband’s idea. I wanted to take up a martial art, like kendo or karate. “No, he said, “You are already dangerous enough…
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We have no neighbors across the street, save the red fox and the gray fox, the mulberry trees, and the bunnies. This spring, rather suddenly, the mulberry trees fruited in…
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