From Norway With Caraway (NaPM edit 3.1) (hen, alonso, John S)
When we cleared Mawmaw's house
even the closet shelves were adorned,
edged with flat bands of crocheted bells.
She was from Norway, her father lost at sea.
Her daughter was steeped in ancestral tea:
sleek enameled silver, intricate
tatting starched into bowls, salt
laden homemade stews laced
with cream, thinly sliced brown bread topped
with a golden yolk, a drape of anchovy.
December’s chill brought a baking marathon;
Alice echoed her mom with a new sweet
every day, aging cookie tins packed
and stacked on Hardanger table runners.
One year, missing some Christmas favorites
her family wouldn't touch, we revived
a day-long recipe, a loaf of caraway
seeded meat in aspic, the start
of our late month lunches together,
her face lit with youth.
Now the recipe is mine but today, checking
the spelling of Kalvesus, all I could find
was the Swedish Kalvsylta, no caraway.
From Norway With Caraway (NaPM edit 3) (hen, alonso, John S)
When we cleared Mawmaw's house
even the closet shelves were adorned,
edged with flat bands of crocheted bells.
She was from Norway, her father lost at sea.
Her daughter was steeped in ancestral tea:
sleek enameled silver, intricate
tatting starched into bowls, salt
laden homemade stews laced
with cream, thinly sliced brown bread topped
with a golden yolk, a drape of anchovy.
December’s chill brought a baking marathon;
Alice echoed her mom with a new sweet
every day, aging cookie tins packed
and stacked on Hardanger table runners.
One year, missing some Christmas favorites
her family wouldn't touch, we dove
into a day-long recipe, a loaf of caraway
seeded meat in aspic, the start
of our late month lunches together,
her face lit with youth.
Now the recipe is mine but today, checking
the spelling of Kalvesus, all I could find
was the Swedish Kalvsylta, no caraway.
From Norway With Caraway edit 2.0 (hen, alonso)
When we cleared her mother’s house
even the closet shelves were adorned,
edged with flat bands of crocheted bells.
Alice was steeped in ancestral tea:
sleek enameled silver, intricate
tatting starched into bowls, heavily
salted homemade food laced
with cream, buttered waffle hearts.
One year, missing some Christmas favorites
her family wouldn't touch, we dove
into a day-long recipe, a loaf of caraway
seeded meat in aspic, the start
of our late month lunches together,
her grinning face lit with youth.
Now the recipe is mine but today, checking
the spelling of Kalvesus, all I could find
was the Swedish Kalvsylta, no caraway.
A Way With Caraway (NaPM edit)
When we cleared Mawmaw's house
even the closet shelves were adorned,
edged with flat bands of crocheted bells;
originally from Norway, her father lost at sea.
Her daughter was steeped in ancestral tea:
sleek enameled silver, intricate
tatting starched into bowls, heavily
salted homemade food laced
with cream, brown bread slick with butter.
December heralded the baking marathon,
Alice knocked out a new cookie
every few days for two weeks, stacks
of tins piled high on every surface.
One year, missing some Christmas favorites
her family wouldn't touch, we dove
into a day-long recipe, a loaf of caraway
seeded meat in aspic, the start
of our late month lunches together,
her grinning face lit with youth.
Now the recipe is mine but today, checking
the spelling of Kalvesus, all I could find
was the Swedish Kalvsylta, no caraway.
Alice Welcomes Winter
Her parents were from Norway;
her grandfather lost at sea,
which her mom said was common.
When we cleared Mawmaw's house
even the linen closet shelves were adorned,
edged with flat bands of crocheted bells.
Alice was steeped in ancestral tea:
sleek enameled silver,
intricate tatting starched into bowls
heavily salted homemade food laced
with cream and butter that no one could resist
and thinly sliced brown bread
topped with egg and anchovies.
December began with the first cookie bake;
she knocked out a new type every other day
for two weeks as the stacks of tins
piled up on every surface.
One year, missing some Christmas favorites
her family wouldn't touch,
we dove into a day long recipe that resulted
in an a loaf of aspic, meat and caraway,
the start of our late month lunches together,
her grinning face lit with youth.
When she could no longer handle
the many steps I did, but today
when I went to check
the spelling of Kalvesus
all I could find was the Swedish kalvsylta,
no caraway.
