By Pejah Carr

You never cooked,
But boy, you knew how to scramble!
You knew not of poaching, deviling, nor the sunny-side of a yolk.
Those did not seem to ever phase you– perhaps they were too fancy for your gallant
Palette.
So thus, I learned how to make the most unadorned, unassuming, ordinary batch of eggs from no Ordinary chef.
We’d scrape mom’s pots and I hear her yelling at us now.
Maybe it was the fear of the scorch,
Or maybe it was the half melted spoon,
But they tasted extraordinarily dairy.
They were exquisitely delicious.
Your Eggos were even better.
I’m not sure how you managed to make a toaster so magical,
But I cannot imitate them,
As you are no ordinary chef.
And because you were no ordinary chef,
We’d often scour the streets for delicacies, like rats, when no one wanted to cook.
My faux chef-in-crime, my cookie connoisseur, my savory friend, you are no ordinary chef.

You ate, though.
You’d murder your plate till all that remained were ketchup stains and the veggies even you couldn’t stomach.
Your belly grew because you always ate when you were hungry,
And that’s something I admire.
Your belly poked me when we’d seldom hug
And it told me you were there.
You seemed to fear you’d pop one day,
And you feared nothing,
But it’s okay. They call Papa’s “pops” for a reason.
Pop.
I could tell popcorn was your favorite
Because the floor was notably littered with kernels.
And I knew you had a sweet tooth because I can’t think of a time when you weren’t familiar with the dentist.
You can blame the New Orleanian in you, but
I’d get beyond annoyed when you conquered all of the catfish we fried.
You were no ordinary chef,
But
You always ate when you were hungry.
You never cooked,
But
You always ate.

And now,
Now there are leftovers.

–

Pejah is a first-year English Major at the University of Texas at Austin! She’s always had a passion for writing and hopes to pursue a career in authorship and editing. Until she came to Austin, she lived in Houston her whole life! Fun Fact: She loves to sing.