My father considered it a sacred duty
to teach us table manners, including
the use of chopsticks and what cultures
found a postprandial belch genteel.
(after a good dinner en famille,
he would eructate the alphabet)
He kept Manischewitz in the pantry
and Coors in the cooler for fishing trips,
and sometimes we kids would get a sip.
Dad tutored our palates in the fine points
of pickled and fermented foods, from Leyden
cheese full of caraway seeds to pickled herring
in sour cream to various types of Kimchi.
There was talk of lutefisk, the ultimate
olfactory event, but through fate
or fortune, that stinky fish
is still on my bucket list.
Inspired by dVerse