You don’t have to know the name of every chocolate
to relish the sweetness
cracked open from the crinkled
metallic paper, on the long subway ride home,
our arms touching, our elbows
knocking at each other’s doors,
arms filled with dinner, kabobs,
the hallway bubbling with lemony rice
with pine nuts, or a pumpkin bread
baked with apricot jam and rum.
We thought we had no family traditions
until my niece proudly stated,
gramma’s brownies!

I remember leftover desserts
wrapped in tinfoil swans;
extra crispy french fries
served in a silver cone;
a rosette of oysters bathed in butter;
parsley; an oyster fork;
words for designer fruits:
pluots; and restaurants with ambiance.

Mother selected a restaurant
as if attending a theater performance,
eyeing production values in growing piles
of New York magazine,

like Nirvana on the 15th floor
with its Indian hangings, incense,
tiny mirrors, candles reflecting
in the long horizontal window overlooking the park.

She labeled recipes after friends’ names:
Mary’s Soup, or Trudy’s chicken,
written on index cards in her recipe box.

I had tasted the spongy madeleine cookie
before I knew about Proust.
She baked them into their lemony seashell shapes.

I learned there’s nothing like a roast chicken
warm from the oven on a Sunday
while preparing for the next day’s commute.

Of course we dined at Sardi’s
and her favorite Italian place, Patsy’s;
their cookbook on her shelf.

I hear her and see her now
setting the round dining table
with fine China and silver butter plates
and miniature silver saltshakers.

On the side table awaits dessert:
fresh berries and cream with crème de cassis
to bring out the liqueur of the berries.
If you stopped by, she’d ask,
Would you like a taste?

When I asked what she wanted to be next,
she replied, I’d like to come back as a chef.

Claudia M. Reder is the author of How to Disappear (Blue Light Press) and My Father & Miro (winner, Bright Hill Press Award). Appointment with Worry was a finalist for the Inlandia Institute Hillary Gravendyk Prize. This Book is for Lettie was a finalist for Changing Light Prize, Livingston Press.