Here’s a new story about dumplings and retribution for the delicious Counter Service Mag. I…don’t think this is what they meant when they said ‘family style’ but by now you should know what you’re getting when you ask me for a story…
Marta thought about her friends’ grandmothers, so fat and jolly, their faces lined with the creases of well-worn smiles, their arms full of hugs. They cooked sweet things filled with love, gozinaki and pelamushi, kaklucha and korkoti, things filled with sugar that stuck to your lips, with sticky, sweet syrup that clung to your fingers. Marta’s grandmother was only full of spite and everything she cooked had the same bitter bite. Her frame was thin and her skin ran rough with the deepest crevices, where hate ran like rivers. Her hands were quick to slap and beat, her tongue to scald with unkind words, her fingers to pinch. Pinch and fold. Pinch and fold. Until the bruises blossomed like flowers on Marta’s pale skin.
Read the full story here!