It happened as I was peeling an onion
Removing the filmy membrane between layers
Clinging to my fingers I imagined it was skin
Peeled off from my body after a sunburn.
Me and the onion two forms of life
Suddenly merged into one common ancestor
As I stood there at the cutting board
Slicing and dicing preparing ingredients.
Doing a familiar task conducive to a kind of meditation
Cooking from memory not needing a recipe
Being one of so many each of us in our kitchens
Taking satisfaction in providing good nutrition.
This prehistoric human activity using fire to cook
Enhancing nourishment and advancing evolution
Connects us with our progenitors in a continuous line
So central to our culture and existence as a species.
For me as a man domestic work is a conscious choice
Not the drudgery it has been for women under patriarchy
While all I know about cooking I have learned from women
Who are truly the masters of making delicious food.
There is comfort in familiar food served at home
And delight in discovering cuisines of other people
Enjoying a variety of tastes and textures and spices
Then deciding what dishes to add to our recipe mix.
