Beef Rendang

Hey kid, this won’t mean that much to you yet,
but I didn’t taste my first proper curry
till at least twenty-one—if we ignore
Friday-night jar-based meals your Gran assembled,
a few sultanas mixed in to make things
more exotic. And here we are cooking
on Saturday afternoon, starting off
from scratch. Gently squeezing out small white coins
of dried chilli seeds. We must wash our hands.

I learned the hard way, having wiped my eyes
while trying my best to impress your mum.
Let’s add ingredients rare as hen’s dentures
in 80s Norfolk: lemongrass, lime leaves,
galangal (ginger will do). Together,
they’ll form a bright orange paste when blended
with those twelve red chillis. Black mustard seeds
and turmeric are waiting to zhuzh up
the jasmine rice. Let’s wash our hands again.

Yes, you can help me to open both tins
of coconut milk. You can pour them in.
It’s fine to climb down from your stool for now.
I wouldn’t trade these hours you won’t remember,
being gastronauts while beef falls apart.
Yes, we can play in your wooden kitchen;
your menu sounds great. We’ll come back later
to check our pots, lay cutlery for three.
I promise you it’s always worth the wait.

Mat Riches is ITV’s unofficial poet-in-residence. Recent work has been in Wild Court, Bad Lillies, The New Statesman, and Finished Creatures. A pamphlet, Collecting the Data, is out via Red Squirrel Press. He co-runs Rogue Strands poetry evenings and blogs at Wear The Fox Hat  Bluesky: matriches.bsky.social