Forewarning!!
This is not a Dish I’ve made before. I don’t think I have that superpower. The best way I could describe the Dish is “Vegetable Salt-fish and Bake” but I don’t think that name really serves justice. “Vibrant Salt-fish and Bake” fits a bit better. I mean look at it . The flashiness of the bell peppers, and assorted cabbage is elegantly contrasted by the humble colors of salt-fish and onion (ironically two of the more prominent flavors in this dish). I love eating with my own eyes, so even the appearance of Vibrant Salt-fish and Bake was pleasing.
Of course, this Dish does not appear out of nowhere. No, it was, much like a child, raw and uncultivated. My mom was the one to breathe life, and more importantly personality into this Dish. I sat down and admired as she disassembled each individual ingredient from its natural state, into a beautiful melody of assorted ingredients that worked (at least visually) way better together. In that way, I reflect on the ways my mom was able to instill the core values and morals that make me who I am today.
Weirdly as I’m writing this, I’m reminded of my little brother, and how I observed the same process play out between him and my mom. Now, he is successful in his own rite, climbing his way to fame in his basketball career. What powerful hands my mom has.
After prepping for the Dish, my mother made sure to preheat and oil her pan with fresh thyme and all spices for flavors only she seems to understand (I never personally taste those things). After preheating, she systematically placed the ingredients inside the pan, allowing each new addition to the pot to simmer and caramelize before adding something else.
The patience it took for me, much less my mom who was cooking the meal, to not stop and eat the halfway cooked Dish was impressive. By now, the Dish had transitioned from the comforts of a child to an adolescent, flexing its boisterous aromas. How ignorant of the Dish; it does not know the maturity it will gain once it is out the pressures of the fire surrounding the pan it is in.
I imagine this is what my mom felt watching me go through my “All- American wannabe” phase in high school. She never put a dim on my light, as I was eager to boast about my newest accomplishments. But I know she knew my journey was only the beginning.
The Dish, after all the ingredients were proportionally added into the pan, simmer together. It is then, and only then, that she adds the seasoning to the Dish. Black Pepper, a bit of garlic powder, bouillon cube and a bunch of other spices I could not tell were put into the dish to finally give it that upgraded personality it did not know it needed. The Dish would then sit there on low heat, allowing itself to bask in the oils and spices as one beautiful meal.
I would imagine this blossoming stage towards the end of its cooking is what I will be for my mom. The same way she tastes the Dish to see if she has gotten it right before serving to anyone else, I dream of passing every test my mother might put me under to ensure I am the best version of myself before I am thrusted into the world. I feel safe knowing my hardest critic is also the one who has poured blood, sweat and tears into making me the best version of myself. I bet at this point, both the Dish and I are happy we had such a good mom.
At its conclusion, The Vibrant Saltfish is married off to the Bake (which I did not see the process for), and they live happily ever after. I could tell by my mother’s expression while eating it that she was content with her work. By the end of the cooking process,
The Dish and I had become brothers by the same mother, perfected in our own unique ways, and ready to showcase its millions of capacities and talents to the world.
Enoch Naklen Chronicles 