Find the digital version here.

 

something more than nutrients

Anita Solak

 

there is probably a study

about how many ppl around the world

eat eggs for breakfast

but I can’t find it

so just know the percentage is high

 

eggs have never tasted the same

after I ate them in Bosnia

the yolks were vivid orange, the whites were crisp

there was never jelly on a sunnyside up

we ate paradajz, eggs, bread & kajmak

almost every morning

the simplicity never got sickening

 

in Zenica, Bosnia there is a scrambled eggs festival

on the first day of spring

no one knows how the tradition started

but ppl still gather at dawn

to scramble hundreds of eggs in fuck-off huge pans

they’re celebrating the promise of life

returning with the warmth of the season

& the idea of a new beginning

knowing ppl everywhere are gathering over eggs

despite the proof of their pasts

is a comforting image bringing me to the table

 

I once made enough cauliflower egg soup

for a whole month

it took me five hours

I ate it three nights in a row then left it to rot for a week

I froze it out of shame

when my housemate said it would be a waste

it took up three containers in the freezer

until the end of our lease

when I crushed it with a spoon & boiled water

 

this soup used to mean family to me

but the visible decay

& the act of shattering a frozen memory

was the exact measurement of pain

I couldn’t deal with

I didn’t want anyone to witness the moment

because I didn’t want it to be real

having no choice but to dispose of

something I’d neglected

the chunks of cauliflower, the whisps of egg

like a shopping list full of my faults

& this time I remembered to carry it with me

this time I’d know the ingredients

for the rot I’d caused

 

today, I’m sundering kupus so I can show u my heart

I’m all sour inside but it’s the kind of sour that

ppl work on for months to ferment

it’s escaping the constant needs of life

as if it were gourmet

 

I remember shucking hazelnuts

while Tetke shared gossip & wisdom

younger rodice refusing to leave the cool

of a curtained bedroom

ruževina & paradajz from Baba’s bašta

 

I miss the kind of food preparation

that felt like seasoning myself

with the rituals of my family & friends

like each bowl of ingredients was a new lesson

on who they had been & I could be

 

in Taemin’s vlog, he eats pork belly, kimchi

& chocolate chex for breakfast

& butterflies are thirsty for animal’s tears

so my thirst for kajmak mushrooms & matcha ice cream

doesn’t seem as strange

craving is a fog u walk through

until it’s clear again

 

Panda tells me an overload of pine nuts

makes everything u eat taste like iron

for the next 24 hours

research shows it can last up to two weeks

& is referred to as pine mouth

I already knew the price of pinenuts was high

but I didn’t realise it would disturb my taste

as well as my bank account

 

all the best meals I’ve had in life

have nothing to do with money

it’s the pork & scalloped potatoes on my birthday

when we couldn’t afford meat

for a whole month

it’s Panda bringing bubble tea, hotpot, sichuan peppers

& condensed milk into my life

& delivering congee after Baba’s passing

it’s flatmates cooking a Christmas feast

for an unspecified amount of guests

it’s Minji gifting me gochugaru

& Anne offering crates of wine

& Baba’s sutlijaš

 

I remember making chicken schnitzels in the dark

while my whole flat watched the second season of planet earth
they lined up the chairs & couches like a theatre

& projected it onto the wall of the dining room

I remember cooking on low heat

because I was worried the sizzling

would disturb the ritualistic viewing

 

I miss my friend bursting into our flat

while stirring his dinner in a pot

then leaving the pot on our stove to cook

or when he arrived with pakoras

for us from his family

because they were cooking for themselves

& had extra to share

 

the only food beliefs I’ve held onto

are these three that Anne & I agreed upon:

garlic is a plant so it counts as one of your five a day

ovens are actually just garlic bread temples

ppl who bring beer on stage to perform poems

& then sip on it mid poem think they’re so cool

but they’re not

 

so I should perform a poem at an event with a loaf of garlic bread

& take a huge bite of it, chewing slowly

& the audience will just have to wait until it’s gone

unsure if the poem is over or not

 

a friend says I always take her warm places

I’d like to think the happiness it gives her is enough

u just have to want food to save u

I tell her if I didn’t know which warm places to cling to

I wouldn’t be meeting her in the outside world

 

I can take ppl to warm places

because other ppl took me

& other ppl took them too

because Panda always has at least three suggestions

for where to eat

& orders exactly the right combination of dishes

that makes life feel possible again

because Mama has a recipe book

full of ideas from her three sisters, her friends,

& her own Mama

all I know about food I’ve been taught

or have learnt by mistake

 

there is a guy in Philly

that invited ppl to an abandoned pier

to watch him consume one whole rotisserie chicken

on his fortieth consecutive day of eating whole rotisserie chickens

this kind of performative eating

reminds me that every meal in public is a performance

of taking care of urself

 

Mama & our komšija talk about kafa in winter

rotating the green beans u kiln, na žaru

shaking & spinning the stick so the beans roast evenly

the aroma spreading from the movement

& everyone in the komšiluk knowing

u were making fresh kafa

how they’d all arrive to gossip

how when they were younger

they hated the noise & crowding in a small room

but now they know

this was the only kind of therapy they had before

 

I miss my rodjak cooking slaninu from the sušara,

saying it’s their speciality, a delicacy

the way I’d never liked cured meat

the way family teased me

for not knowing sausages & salami

are the good stuff

but the slanina he prepared on that day

was exactly the right amount of salt I’d needed

to satiate my stress about the new year of study

I was about to begin

 

never feeling sustained

means pursuing my past through food

I’m indulging in baby biscuits

because it reminds me of my extended family

I’m eating them crushed & sprinkled like a topping

I’m a regular at restaurants

when the weather strains me

even if it means I’ll afford fewer groceries tomorrow

 

I don’t know if I have ever known how to cultivate a body

I was never good at the sims

it’s pitched as lives you can curate

with guides on how to improve their journeys

but all of their decaying needs scared me

how does a human know their needs so clearly & urgently?

 

I’ve learned that baby birds are fed by their parents

& don’t have to worry about worms running away from them

until their parents decide they’re grown enough

to catch food themselves

I wonder at what age birds understand

that food doesn’t hop into ur mouth when it sees u

 

when I was a baby teen

food was not my responsibility

I was a baby teen

& I didn’t fear passing out in a Coles aisle

next to the alternative milks

don’t know at what age u’re supposed to stop being baby

 

for as long as I can remember, Tata has said

nikad neznaš šta imaju tamo, možda te ostave gladno

& he’s right, u can’t ever know

if ppl will feed u the way u need to be fed

 

I miss what food meant to me

 

I miss watching charcoal glow under the spit

the juice of freshly charred kukuruz running down my chin

 

I even miss Tečo calling me a pig

for snatching pečenke from the side of the fire pit

instead of waiting for the lamb

 

kad Teco pravi rostilj the whole neighbourhood drops by

they all have a recipe or experience to share

kako se kuva, i kad se soli

Teco pours rakija for each komšija

 

I miss eating with ppl

because my worst meals have always been alone

 

I remember the time I pounded the fridge

like it would materialise a meal if I wanted it enough

 

I’m waiting for food to cast a spell on me

for a life-changing meal, the kind that says

 

fuck ur past, u don’t need it

fuck ur future, it’s not here yet

u’re going to eat with ur hands

& lick the plate clean

suck your fingers

& use ur teeth

to scrape what’s left under ur nails

u know the savouring will

mean something

u’re just not

sure what