The aroma of crushed mint leaves clings to the bowl,
bringing with it a flood of memories of childhood.
I remember when I was introduced to lamb, gradually, with
little lamb patties surround by ample dollops of mint jelly.
As I grew older, the jelly was replaced by mint leaves, shredded
and mixed with water and sugar and vinegar.
It wasn’t long before the volume of mint with my lamb began
to decline until, finally, I didn’t need nor even want mint.
Lamb was fine all by itself. I was an adult.
Why, I wonder, does the smell of mint still seem so close,
so recent, so personal? Ah, it’s the mojitos.
When I no longer needed mint for my lamb, I needed it for my rum.
But, still, I want my lamb, my grown-up food that carries with it
the full experience of childhood. Lamb with mojitos, the perfect
collaboration between youth and old age, the merger of then and now.
