In the wicker shopping trundler
the huge ham was born home
from the butcher’s shop on our
street corner five minutes. walk
from our suburban house courtesy
of Chinese market gardeners
to Dad for additional services
rendered such as assistance
with income tax forms.
This vast joint was cooked
in the fish kettle on the long
element over the grill on the
new 1950’s stove steaming the
kitchen even with windows wide
open for our summer Christmas.
After its required hours of boiling
the ham was lifted out of
the fish kettle its unwieldy
weight unsteady between carving
forks skewering each end placed
on the large meat plate beside
the kettle. Woe betide children
entering the kitchen just then.
After several hours cooling down
by a kitchen window it was
ready to be eaten on Christmas
Day … and many other days.
To this day ham is not
our first choice meat.
lifecameos 