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Inheritance
by
Myrna Merron |
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Some families claim a coat of arms,
while others describe their family farms,
Ladies with manners gently boast
of Mayflower kin sailing to Plymouth’s coast.
My family tree stands strong and tall, but
kings and queens never came to call;
Neither is there record of land or booty
or other reasons to be snooty.
Tho’ material riches were not my bequest,
bestowed were recipes to taste and test.
So to my ancestors I raise a toast- l’chaim-
you sure knew how to make pot roast!
Soups and stews and aromatic cake
my foremothers did cook and bake.
With meager funds they could fashion a meal
a five-star chef might try to steal.
By work of mouth, on paper scraps,
pinches, teaspoons, cups became maps
to treasures that can’t be bought and sold
and of feelings more precious than piles of gold.
Today as I contemplate brisket and chicken
my heart, my pulse begin to quicken
as aromas of near and collective memory
blend together like garlic, thyme and savory.
So come, join in, be my guest
to sniff and taste and cook and test
delights that have nurtured bodies and hearts--
a culinary version of my genealogical chart..
©
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--Submitted by mwmerron on 2011-05-07.
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