12 October, 2013
I asked, “Hey mom, how’s it going… How was your day?”
“It’s going alright I guess, busy preparing for dinner that’s all.” Sighed mom.
Curiously I inquire, “That’s good, so listen I want to ask you a few questions about cooking…. It’s for English you see and I need to interview you if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure thing ask away.” Mom sounding enthusiastic.
My mom, Ann, didn’t have the intention of sitting down and discuss the question like a normal interview. Her hands look rough like sandpaper because of all the years she spent cooking. She looked young for her age, but I couldn’t look past how she looked so young with that Rihanna haircut and jewelry covering her from head to toe. She had already prepped the pots and pans on the stove, cutting board and ingredients ready to cut, and made sure everything on the list was bought from the store. Without hesitating we addressed the first question.
I thought cautiously, “When did you start cooking?”
Mom confused answered, “Let me think on that for a moment… Oh I started at the age of 25 when I got married to your dad. I remember as a child watching my parents cook, it really caught my attention on how to make something so delicious with varies amount of ingredients.”
I noticed the techniques she used when she peeled the skin off the vegetables with ease. Her eyes widen as she sliced up some onions, garlic, and tomatoes. She paused for a second putting her hands on her hips implying something important to say. She went on saying…
“I would smell the aroma that carried through the air as the hot steaming gas lifted up from the pan into the gas vent from the microwave. The smell of sweetness, bitterness, and sourness that came from the dish and I thought to myself as I heard the fire from the stove wildly flickering like a forest fire destroying the dry land that I want to make something just as great.”