This Winter Day

By Maya Angelou

From: Oh Pray My Wings Are Gonna Fit Me Well: Poems. New York, Random House, 1975

The kitchen is its readiness

white green and orange things

leak their blood selves in the soup.

Ritual sacrifice that snaps

an odor at my nose and starts

my tongue to march

slipping in the liquid of it drip.

The day, silver striped

in rain, is balked against

my window and the soup.

Working with my hands has always been soothing to me. As a kid I spent hours playing in the mud, and I was fascinated by the smoothness of a wooden spoon or the softness of a skein of yarn. Shepherding an idea from creative spark to physical manifestation still excites me, no matter how simple the project. It’s so important to take a break from our intellectual and digital lives to interact with the physical world. Dumping flour into a bowl and breathing in a little of the dust cloud. Cracking eggs, the sticky slime on your fingers, and the crumbling shards of shell. These are full body sensory experiences that connect us to the real, immediate, solid world.

I had a few great food moments this winter break: frozen grapes, a bag of which I consumed in two days; at least one nearly-perfect fried egg; a honey-and-molasses cake to celebrate New Year’s Day. The best thing I ate during the past months was not something I made, though, but the curried red lentil and coconut soup my dad makes. The original recipe came from a friend who brought this soup to my mom in the hospital after my sister was born. My dad adjusts the exact ingredients with every iteration. This version had mushrooms, red bell pepper, and sweet potato cubes. It’s not the most elegant meal, but it’s my favorite vegetarian lunch or dinner, with a rich and complicated flavor and a thick texture.