We Used Our Hands

I love the simplicity, both of the poem and of the dish. You know, some egg wash and salt, some parsley appeared from the garden. That's a lovely image. And then this last one, and i want to think about it just for a little bit longer. Shining obergin, black skinned brake, beauty. Bitter apple. What a great, great word. I want to start calling them bitter apples. But also all those words, from skin to beauty to the apple, the sort of a eaten quality prelapserian that's there, you know. Tell us about that. Well, i guess we used our hands, became a kind of