Journal 4

Have you ever smelled homemade bread baking in the oven?  That warm, loving smell wrapped around me like my mother’s arms.  As I sat at the dining room table, a massive ceramic pot was placed at the center of the table, as if it were piece of artwork.  My sister removed  the lid and out came steam that danced around like a ribbon.  I rose out of my chair and grabbed the serving utensils before anyone had a chance to even think about serving themselves.  I leaned over the table and saw a surprising medley of grey clams, tiny shrimp, and colorful chopped vegetable all submerged in a red, broth-like liquid.  I went at the food like I have never eaten before, scooping deeply to serendipitously find that al dente angel hair pasta was hiding at the bottom like earth worms in soil.  I plated myself and asked for the Romano cheese.  I sprinkled carefully and plentifully, making sure the whole surfaced was covered in white.  I forked around before I took my first bite, trying to find the perfect place to start.  The clams clinked and clunked, egging me on to eat them.  I stabbed into the mound of pasta and twirled until my fork was heavy.  As I raised my fork to my mouth, the smell of tomato and pasta warmed my soul.  I opened my mouth wide so I could get as much of the food in my mouth as possible.  I chewed and chewed with my cheeks protruding; all the meanwhile, I paid attention to the soft crunching sound of the shrimp.  I picked up the grey clam and felt its warmth conduct from the shell to my hand.  I stabbed at the muddy brown flesh nested in the center of the clam, and then yanked my fork to pull the meat away from its stem.  I realized as I attempted to swallow the meat of the clam that is was very chewy; it felt as if I swallowed a wad of gum, sea flavored.  I finished my plate and thanked my mother for such a tasty dinner.