Pure Poetry

A young boy I know loves to cook. His dishes still run to experiments based on little intuition of how ingredients will taste together, but under his big sister’s guidance, he’s learning. Last week he squeezed an entire lemon into a bowl and then put in a bunch of scallions and two cans of chickpeas. This might have led to a very tart chickpea salad, but he had in mind a hot dish. His sister nudged him toward a chickpea curry, and soon, with coconut milk and more vegetables added in, it was simmering on the stove. When it was time for the seasoning, he knew the effect he wanted, but not the spices to achieve it. He asked his sister for advice. “I want a taste that will make everyone feel we worked hard to make sure they enjoy it,” he said. “And I want it to make them smile.” He might be an undeveloped chef, but when it comes to seasonings and cooking with love, he’s a full-fledged poet.

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