Seasoned

When I graduated high school and went on to college, I accepted the “lost and found” relics of my mother’s cupboard and brought with me to college, two very old black tin enameled cooking crocks. As a young married wife, I came to love those old things and I swore my mama’s ‘hungarian goulash’ tasted better served out it. I put quotation marks around the name because there was nothing Hungarian about it and the ground beef, macaroni, lots of cheese and tomato sauce, resembled something more like hash but mama had named it that and that’s all there is to it.

As woks became popular, my husband and I took turns with our first Austin neighbors of making weekly Chinese food and over the years, we swore the recipe was the same, but it every week we proclaimed that it was the best yet. Could be that we were more skilled in our labors but that old wok had taken on a seasoned flavor all its own. We were very careful not to clean with soap as it would strip what made the food so characteristically tasty.

To those who’s walk down the aisle is just a stone’s throw away, I can’t tell you how to keep sacred the hushed moments you currently share, for you will figure that out one anniversary at a time. The days are long and the years short as they say so don’t give up on those first forays in the kitchen, of burnt toast and spilled milk. It takes time to learn the rhythm of relationship.

Don’t despair if you don’t speak the same language right off the bat or you feel like you’re beating your head against the wall of stubbornness and pride. Lay down the phone and stop texting. Hug big, listen long, speak little and whisper how much you love to love.

Seasoning is a little dab of this and a little dab of that. Before you know it, you don’t need the recipe, you just know it, feel it, taste it even.

Enjoy the salt and pepper,

Elaine