Taramasalata
Taramasalata – to me are dips of different colours Later I learned the pink one was taramasalata, It was fish eggs, it smell of fish, it was thick and somehow sweet. Later still I learned it was pink because we used tinned fish to make it.
The other dips: a garlic nutty thing with a slick of green oil on top A light brown or beige. The third a yogurt with mint A strange thing as it wasn’t desert.
We would toast pitta bread on the fire or stove top Sit on the floor at my Nan’s house. Sometimes there were olives I would eat too many
Cucumber and radishes cut to be flowers carved by my dad. Now I carve the veg and make pictures for my children But the pink gloop I loved is relegated as the Alaric is a Vegetarian I try not to keep meat or fish in the fridge out of respect.
But some times I crave it – long for those days Fighting off my brother and cousins who would steel the food if I did not eat it fast enough… but it was so pretty I wanted to savour it.
Later when I tried to cook food for others I was called a Hippy! Aubergines apparently are gross and a camp site of teenage boys… Hated anything they saw as fancy even simple dips. But now Alaric cooks me interesting foods with okra It is great – though of course all vegetarian.
When I think of taramasalata I remember the dock and the boats The dockers moving crates of all sorts of things from all around the world I remember the cats with the short legs that ran under the wood piles And stole your pink stinky gloop if you were not watching Or if you were me you enticed the kitties with it Because who doesn’t want to cuddle with kittens? And Alaric does in fact call it cat food.
I miss taramasalata.
Posted: Thursday, June 19th, 2025 @ 11:01 am
Categories: Poems.
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