Sarah Bigham teaches, writes, and paints in the United States. A Pushcart nominee, Sarah’s poetry, fiction, and nonfiction have appeared in a variety of great places for readers, writers, and listeners. Find her at www.sgbigham.com.
Recipes I have never made
Hardtack from a cookbook I insisted on buying at an historic grist mill, despite my attempt at a gluten-free “lifestyle” in the hopes of improving multiple health conditions (a complete failure).
Oatmeal Griddlecakes with Cider Sauce from the B&B where my wife and I got married, and the food was delicious, but I feared that making any of the recipes myself might somehow spoil my magical memories.
Newt’s Hamburger Casserole from the second edition of an advice columnist’s “cookbooklet” recipe collection that I kept on a kitchen shelf for years, thinking that someday I might need to use it for some kind of hostess emergency.
No Peekie Stew from edition one, with a notation that this dish is popular with men and could be served over white bread instead of the noodles listed in the recipe.
Sister Mildred’s Creamed Potatoes from a cookbook I excitedly bought at the bookstore of the only Shaker community with living members.
Blue-Ribbon Black-Powder Buttermilk Biscuits from a gorgeous book produced by the owners of an incredibly remote restaurant in Utah that we happened upon after exploring national parks.
I gaze longingly at the luscious pictures as I nuke a dispiriting leftover takeout meal.
The accounting
I.
The silence befuddles some. Why no outcry, or reporting? The pit of guilt, dark and lonely. Unwanted advances from a man supposed to be a mentor, more than 50 years her senior. Who and what to tell? Quiet. Swallowed.
II.
#metoo
III.
Convictions say speak. Obituary says dead.
IV.
Media coverage beatifies. So many photos with young women, kindness in their eyes.
V.
A second shame, wondering if her voice could have prevented others from planting their own gardens of guilt.