There was "Biko" when I woke up from an afternoon nap last Monday (August 23, 2010) with a caramel coating that made it fetching to my sight. And with every bite comes these lines:
"I was drawn back to a distant time, many a moon has gone by, when I can have this at anytime I have a craving for. But now that I am in a foreign country I thought it an extra-terrestrial treat or perhaps providence from the divinities who saw a kind deed from me this week. I relished this sweetfamiliarheaven dancing its sweet consumption in my mouth, whose very taste conjures up an image of a house with a green roof where in a sombre corner could be a woman, sitting on a chair, kneading dough, oblivious to the miniscule beads of sweat that trickled down her arm, her nape, and her cheeks. She can do this all day. That woman is my mom, a kitchen warrior, whose fine cooking I remember as I experience this ineffable bliss over a slice of Biko."
"I was drawn back to a distant time, many a moon has gone by, when I can have this at anytime I have a craving for. But now that I am in a foreign country I thought it an extra-terrestrial treat or perhaps providence from the divinities who saw a kind deed from me this week. I relished this sweetfamiliarheaven dancing its sweet consumption in my mouth, whose very taste conjures up an image of a house with a green roof where in a sombre corner could be a woman, sitting on a chair, kneading dough, oblivious to the miniscule beads of sweat that trickled down her arm, her nape, and her cheeks. She can do this all day. That woman is my mom, a kitchen warrior, whose fine cooking I remember as I experience this ineffable bliss over a slice of Biko."
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