COMEDY Poem: My Mother’s Mayonnaise, by Juliette Firla

My mother has always had a peculiar taste.
Her five-foot stature and whopping 98-pound figure do not give any hint to the appetite lurking
underneath.

She is a slow eater,
most often still working on her meal when the rest of the table is finishing up the dessert or
paying the check.
She says it is better that way.
Better for digestion, and,
“I could die after this meal, so I will savor each and every bite.”

She is a grazer,
telling me more times than I can count that she had
“a few hunks of cheese,
three carrots,
a spoon full of guacamole,
and two leftover meatballs”
for lunch.

She is a chipmunk,
often filling her cheeks up with whatever she is dining on at the time so she can be a part of the
conversation,
because it is rude to talk with your mouth full, but apparently perfectly polite to talk with your
cheeks full.

She loves cottage cheese,
often eating it without anything else,
not even a dash of salt or a piece of toast.
I used to squeeze my nose and shut my eyes tight when she took out the white tub for her daily
few forkfuls of the white curdled mess.

She loves herring,
every evening putting the stinky fish on a Triscuit cracker,
to compliment her glass of red wine and chunk of cheddar cheese.

She loves lox,
not on an everything bagel with cream cheese,
just alone.
Her, her fork, and her raw salmon,
maybe with a few red onions, even a caper or two, intermingled on a good day.

But my mother has no greater love than mayonnaise.
She would eat it by the spoonful if it weren’t against the status quo.
Helmann’s only.

No Duke’s. No Heinz. None of that avocado oil bullshit.
Helmann’s.
“If you don’t like mayonnaise, you’re not welcome here”, she would say to my fellow seven-
year-olds when they came over for a lunch-time playdate,
lathering the white substance onto Wonder bread against their will.

Many of her more creative recipes include mayonnaise as a main component.
Hilton Head Macaroni:
macaroni, tuna, shaved carrots and mayonnaise.
Chicken “Madeline”:
chicken, cream of chicken soup, stuffing, and mayonnaise.
Patti’s Crab Salad:
macaroni, imitation crab, celery, and mayonnaise.

Sandwiches have to have mayonnaise seeping out the sides.
Hamburgers are smothered in mayonnaise rather than the usual ketchup.
Even a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich gets a nice dollop of mayo.

I hold many peculiarities,
but my appetite is not one of them.
I’m a fast eater.
I am not a grazer.
I never talk with my mouth full.
I hate cottage cheese,
and herring,
and lox.

But my mother raised me right,
because I
fucking
love
mayonnaise.