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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic



A gust of wind travels, courtesy of the awaiting typhoon of the coast. The polluted sky only allowed a few stars, that shimmered far in the distance. The smoke coming from a lone grill sways because of the breeze. Grasshoppers chirp in the grass while a family chats away on a patio in the midst of a mountain. A boy prepares his steak masterfully rubbing the beautiful steak with the finest kosher salt as well as olive oil picked straight from the branches of their comforting tree. The pepper on his left hand is sprinkled down with care, properly dispersed onto the steak. He rubs the steak with equal pressure distributing his weight on the foot of his palms pushing the mixture deep into the steak. In the distance, the fiery spit of the grill invites the steak, gently reaching the height of its temperature. The steak is transported with care, every step watched with the utmost precision with the boy, making sure the precious juices of the steak are balanced. After a deep sigh and the quick grab of a pair of tongs, the boy placed the steak on the grill. Flames of red burst from below, hungry for the oil that falls. The steak marbles at the immense heat of the grill discolouring the radiant red into a glistening brown. The mechanical process was supervised by the boy, he made sure that each second was giving the steak a crisp texture while maintaining a juicy inner. After minutes of a keen eye watching the flames, the steak was done! The boy excitedly put the steak to rest, so that the steak could collect the juices from inside. Drops of oil and extracts of the beep collected beneath it. Making each drop salty and heavy. Alas, it was time, the boy stuck his knife in pride inside the steak causing the steak to implode from the inside, juices spilling out. He puts the beef inside his mouth. Flavours of umami disperse into his mouth, his tongue soaking every drop available. He delicately cuts a piece of the steak and hands it over to his father. His eyebrow moves upwards in initial delight but slowly demotes closer to his eyes.


‘It’s not done yet’, he announces, ‘another two and a half will do’


In disappointment, the boy brings the steak back to the grill. The steak cries out in desperation but is unable to move. The juices evaporate quickly, bringing out a salty aroma into the air. The deadline arrives and so does judgement. The boy cuts the steak, instead, this time in haste. The steak is placed into his mouth but the explosion of umami is not there anymore, instead, stale saltiness arrives in his mouth, and on his face, pure disappointment.


Submitted: February 11, 2018

© Copyright 2023 Nir Mathur. All rights reserved.

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