Talking about venturing into an unknown – that is what Japanese cuisine was for me. Everything was an experiment. As always, baking was my favourite part, so I really enjoyed making gyoza wrappers, the filling and shaping those nice pockets. They looked good and they tasted like the ones I bought in a sushi restaurant. I assume that means that the culinary adventure was a success.
I still remember a book my father gave to me when I was little. It was nicely illustrated, with hard covers and had stories about kids from various parts of the world. Their lives were described and illustrated by photographs. I learned what they did every day, their hobbies, their dreams. Noriko was a girl from Japan. She liked to dance and I can still picture her, dressed in kimono,
The most precious gift: a book,
from hard covered “The Little Red Hen” and “The Puss in boots”,
to tomes of folk poems and stories, collected by Vuk Karadžić.
Handed to me by my father.
The encyclopedias to make me
curious about the world,
the travel books to sprout
my desire to see the places,
the stories about other people to teach me
that a white little girl, loved by her family
was not the only way to be.
My father read poems
to my brother when he was a baby,
too busy when I came around.
My brother became an engineer,
I – a poet, a writer, a word lover.
I must have hit a jackpot somewhere on the way,
while growing up.