{"id":463,"date":"2011-12-10T14:37:00","date_gmt":"2011-12-10T14:37:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=463"},"modified":"2011-12-10T14:37:00","modified_gmt":"2011-12-10T14:37:00","slug":"myra-schneider%e2%80%99s-goulash","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/myra-schneider%e2%80%99s-goulash\/","title":{"rendered":"Myra Schneider\u2019s 'Goulash'"},"content":{"rendered":"

Goulash<\/span>

A crucial ingredient is the right frame of mind<\/span>
so abandon all ideas of getting on. Stop pedalling, <\/span>
dismount, go indoors and give yourself masses of time.<\/span>
Then begin by heating a pool of oil in a frying pan<\/span>
and, Mrs. Beeton style, take a dozen onions <\/span>
even though the space you\u2019re working in is smaller<\/span>
than the scullery in a Victorian mansion.  Pull off  <\/span>
the papery wrappings and feel the shiny globes\u2019 solidity<\/span>
before you chop. Fry the segments in three batches. <\/span>
Don\u2019t fuss about weeping eyes, with a wooden spoon <\/span>
ease the pieces as they turn translucent and gold.<\/span>
When you\u2019ve browned but not burnt the cubes of beef <\/span>
marry meat and onions in a deep pan, bless the mixture <\/span>
with stock, spoonfuls of paprika, tomato pur\u00e9e <\/span>
and crushed garlic. Enjoy the Pompeian-red warmth. <\/span>
Outside, the sun is reddening the pale afternoon <\/span>
and you\u2019ll watch as it sinks behind blurring roofs, <\/span>
the raised arms of trees, the intrepid viaduct. <\/span>
In the kitchen\u2019s triumph of colour and light the meat<\/span>
is softening and everything in the pot is seeping <\/span>
into everything else. By now you\u2019re thinking of love:<\/span>
the merging which bodies long for, the merging <\/span>
that\u2019s more than body. While you\u2019re stirring the stew <\/span>
it dawns on you how much you need darkness.<\/span>
It lives in the underskirts of thickets where sealed buds<\/span>
coddle green, where butterflies folded in hibernation,<\/span>
could be crumpled leaves. It lives in the sky that carries <\/span>
a deep sense of blue and a thin boat of moon angled<\/span>
as if it\u2019s rocking. It lives in the silent larder and upstairs<\/span>
in the airing cupboard where a padded heart pumps <\/span>
heat, in the well of bed where humans lace together.<\/span>
Time to savour all this as the simmering continues,<\/span>
as you lay the table and place at its centre a small jug<\/span>
in which you\u2019ve put three tentative roses and sprigs<\/span>
of rosemary. At last you will sit down with friends <\/span>
and ladle the dark red goulash onto plates bearing<\/span>
beds of snowhite rice. As you eat the talk will be bright<\/span>
as the garnets round your neck, as those buried <\/span>
with an Anglo-Saxon king in a ship at Sutton Hoo, <\/span>
and the ring of words will carry far into the night.<\/span>

                          <\/span>

from <\/span>Circling The Core<\/span> (Enitharmon Press 2008)<\/span>

*<\/span>Myra Schneider<\/span>\u2019s most recent books are <\/span>Circling The Core<\/span><\/a> (Enitharmon Press) and <\/span>Writing Your Self <\/span>(with John Killick) Continuum (2009). She is a tutor for the Poetry School and consultant to the Second Light Network of Women Poets. Goulash was shortlisted for a Forward Prize.<\/span>
<\/font><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

GoulashA crucial ingredient is the right frame of mindso abandon all ideas of getting on. Stop pedalling, dismount, go indoors and give yourself masses of time.Then begin by heating a pool of oil in a frying panand, Mrs. Beeton style, take a dozen onions even though the space you\u2019re working in is smallerthan the scullery […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-463","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/463","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=463"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/463\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=463"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=463"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=463"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}