Subtle narratives
Last night when I stopped by G and McK’s to check in on their garden, I was greeted with McK’s proud announcement of focaccia making its way to culinary fulfillment, much the way I watched my grandmother baking bread broken alongside the same kind of wine and banter that accompanied the gift of food before us.
My grandmother’s hands always appeared as worn and supple as the bready legacies of her youth in Naples. She was a product of traditions from the century before the last, making her craft as relevant as any in this century. The kitchen was her domain of knowledge and social capital; her wealth was the same wealth we celebrate today. The subtle narratives of her bread are indistinguishable from those of breads from this kitchen where G and McK ply curious experiments no less worthy of hers. I am honored guest now, as much as I was then.
