Ronia Ibrahim
Mum Food
after Michelle Zauner
steaming cups of leaf water. hues of orange and pink burning the tongue. glutinous rice cake cut in deep caramel squares. the hardened oil-skin of refrigerated beef stew, orange and brown like the sliced middle of an agate, colours enclosed within each other, russian doll style. a star anise frozen in time. tiny cubes of tofu bubbling. fat-ribboned bricks of rice noodle tumbling into the colander. fat leaving the tendon. endless vines of sweet potato leaves. taiwanese swamp monster. chopsticks dancing with smoke and burn. the hot stench of dried shrimp, so strong you think you’ll never smell anything again. then you do. deep breath, shiitake. beyond the plumes of starch and canola: shiny potato matchsticks carrying red peppercorns. boiled tea eggs lolling in a puddle of dark soy sauce. stacked canoes of bok choy, floating on garlic broth. bright orange prawn shells glistening among tubes of spring onion. molasses between the teeth. red chilli mosaic in the tupperware. orange peel penetrating the air. tartness settling on the tongue, uninvited, irresistible. the smack of lips. kiwifruit juice dribbling down the thumb stubbornly, no matter how discreetly it is cut. gold caramelising paper cuts. a hint of apricot. FLOO-RAL.
Ronia Ibrahim is a writer and interdisciplinary artist who lives in Naarm. Her poetry and non-fiction have been published in Starling, Overland, Stasis Journal, The Pantograph Punch, Newsroom, Turbine|Kapohau and The Spinoff. She is very good at watching birds and making a mess.