Winter is a time for hearty meals like thick soups and beef stew. This got me to thinking about one of my favorite poems: Pot Roast by Mark Strand. In his poem, a plate of pot roast brings back memories of the first time Strand tasted the meal...of his mother serving him a second helping. While everything around him seems bleak, the "power of food"...the "meat of memory" provides him with sustenance.
From POT ROAST
by Mark Strand
So I bend
to inhale
the steam that rises
from my plate, and I think
of the first time
I tasted a roast
like this.
It was years ago
in Seabright,
Nova Scotia;
my mother leaned
over my dish and filled it
and when I finished
filled it again.
I remember the gravy,
its odor of garlic and celery,
and sopping it up
with pieces of bread.
And now
I taste it again.
The meat of memory.
The meat of no change.
I raise my fork
and I eat.
to inhale
the steam that rises
from my plate, and I think
of the first time
I tasted a roast
like this.
It was years ago
in Seabright,
Nova Scotia;
my mother leaned
over my dish and filled it
and when I finished
filled it again.
I remember the gravy,
its odor of garlic and celery,
and sopping it up
with pieces of bread.
And now
I taste it again.
The meat of memory.
The meat of no change.
I raise my fork
and I eat.
Click here to read the rest of the poem.
The Poetry Friday Roundup is at Reading to the Core this week.
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4 comments:
Love this poem, and am craving pot roast now, of course! :)
Yum.
Winter is indeed the time of year for comfort food. This week, for us, it is lentil soup, but we're already talking about chicken and noodles for next week!
Yum. I love a food can conjure up so much more than just something to eat--the memories and connections.
I am constantly amazed at how our senses take us back. Scents too. And even the rush of memories from a visual; a memento from a significant event, or a snapshot. Our brain is amazing, how it stores and retrieves seemingly insignificant details.
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