Menu - Food is Love

Popeyes Biscuits

My grandma and I wore fancy dresses to an empty Popeyes before the wedding. She taught me table manners. I spread cheap napkins on my skirt, sat straight, and sliced the biscuits all proper. She sang me a song that goes, “Elisa, Elisa, if you’re able, keep your elbows off the table.”

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Espresso Sonata No. 1

The only wedding I’ve attended was my dad’s. Boston froze over in January and Anna requested a coffee flavored cake. I wore a scratchy bow and they asked me to recite the Little Prince for all the guests — “I am beginning to understand. There is a flower…I think she tamed me”. The venue’s spiral stairs were painted like piano keys. An old woman saw me throw my slippers down the steps. I had no explanation.

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Cracked Coconut 

A townhouse in Virginia, my mom and I were  alone. I demanded a coconut, and like many such cases, she made it a reality. We took turns stabbing its hairy shell with a knife, and when that failed, smashed it on the kitchen tiles. Where I expected sweet milk I found bitter, lukewarm water. After all that work, I refused to drink. She didn’t get mad even though she really should have. 

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Birthday Cake 

Every year I ate a store bought chocolate cake. Once it was brought home, I hopped on the counter and dangled my little legs. My fingertips wore raspberry hats and squished them into every inch of frosting. I brought the recipe to my cooking camp. I was told it didn’t count. But no one can dictate the sanctity of my rituals, even if they’re store bought.

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Friendsgiving Feast

I took the Megabus home for Thanksgiving. The dining table hid behind cloth and doilies and tea candles. Allison’s Lumpia, Sarah’s red curry, Ella’s apple pie, my mom’s beans and rice. We sat in half-shadows and semi-silent chewing. I saved the taste in my teeth for the nights I’d be without them. 

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 Tap Water Drupes

September felt like summer this year. Hannah and I bought plums and peaches from the market at Fort Greene. We washed them in the water fountain and ate them in the grass. Mine had sweet bruises that drooled juice down my wrists and smeared around my lips. Hannah drew a dragonfly, penciled with precision. I watched her as I ate like a child at a magic show. 

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Abendbrot

Oskar paid for me to raid a grocery store. Berlin in July, where the shadows stretch long and the sun stays late. Tub of blueberries, tin can fish, pistachios, dried dates, bread rolls and salami, chocolate and cheese. We used our hands, broke bread, and dipped fingers in the pickle jar. Elbows on the table. I ate the smelly fish but he kissed me all the same. It was dark when we were done and we were full and slightly tipsy on gluttonous indulgence, unmoderated pleasure. I considered a redaction from the seven deadly sins. 

Elisa Edgar

Art by Jordan Baker