Mofongo

 The kitchen smells of crushed garlic

and the deep fryer pops and snaps

In excitement

The counter splays

A rainbow array of exotic spices

And edible elements of the earth

On the radio

A savory salsa swings

Green Plantains

Are not bananas

But they pretend to be

So that the unsuspecting

Might bring them home

And fall in love with their

Starchy nutty flavor

So familiar and comforting

That a ripened plantain

Weans  infants of the Caribbean

On warm summer nights

As the coconuts click in the wind

And Today is their homecoming

Peeled from their green jackets

Like soldiers coming home from war

They are mashed in a wooden

Bowl with a heavy wooden pounder

In comes the Garlic

Potent and earthy

Arrogant and aromatic

Against the bits of blue crab

sprinkled into the bowl

Pressed Olive oil drizzles

Slowly and thick

From a glass bottle

To marry the mixture

 Someone turns the radio up

And the kitchen is in full swing

Ingredients are added by

Invitation only

The finished mush

Is fashioned into a bowl form

And deep fried to crispness

Pots are clamoring

And the savory smells

Cling to the walls

And lure us from our bedrooms

Codfish and crab bubbles

On the stove in a bath of tomato broth

Salty and tender

Ready to be poured into the mofongo bowl

Mofongo

Mo-fone-go

I ran from the dish as a child

For the name felt too foreign

On my tongue

Not easy like Skittles

Or Campbells

But today

It calls to me

With a history,

With a culture,

And with the familiar

Faces  of  family.

Buen Provecho!