A Feast of Favorites

It starts with a sizzle

Butter dancing in the pan

Without care or worry

Like the cast iron is playing jazz

With andouille on the sax

And poulet on the trumpet

Peppers and tomatoes

Celery and okra

Onion and garlic

Spicy, rich, sweet

Sauteed royalty

Blistered and blackened by the heat

But strengthened by the pain

Developing a new richness

That understands the value

Of holding one’s heart to the flame

Before the cooling wash of broth

Slides it all into suspension

Drowning

With a heavy hiss

And a cloud of steam

Waiting on the rice

To plump

And the soup

To thicken

And the tears

To stop

It starts with a shimmy

A sifter leaving flour scattered

Over the counter

Like beads in the street

As the parade passes through

The dough

Soft and supple

Bends under the pressure

Of my hands

Until it comes together stronger

But still soft

Malleable

Ready to take shape

Under the guidance of whoever

Holds the roller

The curse of people pleasing

Is never to know your own shape

Neat circles

Trimmed of their rough edges

And unsightly folds

Laid out in rows like headstones

On a sheet of steel

Butter breaking through

The carefully curated shapes

Lumps rising from the top

As the heat reminds them

That everyone is just a little

Different

They start the same

Made of the same things

But no two remain identical

And everyone loves them anyway

Maybe it's okay to have

A little extra butter

Or a little less flour

In my circle of dough

After all

It starts with a scent

The unmistakable aroma

Of melting sugar

And toasted pecans

Rich and sweet perfume

For the poor and the bitter

Butter and cream

Lend their smoothness

To the candy

Playing mediator

And medium

As the crystals break down

And surrender

And the chopped nuts

Search for their other halves

In the whole

Disks form on the wax paper

A hot mess

That will slowly

And surely

Become a beautiful

Dose of nostalgia

And empty calories

To keep me moving

When I want to surrender

To lay down and die

A taste of home

Where my heart is

And a sweet memory

Of before

To savor

As it melts into my mouth

And seeps into my soul

Bringing light to the dark

And hope to the void

It starts with a smile

That turns into a laugh

As I serve up my soul

On a plate

In a bowl

Spreading the savory

Sweet

Nostalgia

Around the table

A ladle of gumbo

A biscuit for dipping

And a salted pecan praline

For every friend

And for my family

A feast.