FOOD MINCER

by GWEN AUSTIN
copyright 1/02

"It's a food grinder,"
I remember Grandma saying,
as I reach to the back of my shelf
for my treasured relic.

Just before Thanksgiving,
Grandma would haul down
from a high shelf,
the "newfangled contraption"
invented in 1850s by
London's Spong Company.

She removed it from a flour-sacking bag,
washed, dried each part,
puzzled them together again.

Sturdy on three flat feet,
the metal barrel gleamed empty.
Wide-mouth funnel yawned.

Grandma screwed the grinder down
on scarred table top,
placed a flat pan at end,
put a wide bowl on newspaper-covered floor
for drips and spatters.

She picked over, washed cranberries,
quartered tangy oranges,
stuffed all into grinder maw,
turned the crank,
hummed the hymn,
Blessed Be the Tie That Binds.

Our nostrils flared
as saliva flowed,
aromas rose
from red and orange medley.

Merged with sugar mounds,
the mixture melded
into Grandma's holiday relish,

tradition and continuum.