MOMO memories
It's lunch time, a fresh
batch of Momo is cooking
slowly inside on the noisy
kerosene stove. A large circular
aluminum dish carries
an array of steaming
fresh meatballs wrap in a thin
skin of white flour.
Nearby, a bowl of earthen clay holds
a slurry of spicy tomato with
flecks of white mustard in it.
Its smell fills the kitchen.
A young tall guy with a yellow
shirt calls over the coupon number
from the counter. I stand in the
long line and grab a steaming bowl
of Momo dipping in the spicy pickle
from the serving table.
The fresh batch of Momo is about to
run out and the customers are
waiting for the second tray to come out.
I walk away with a tang of Momo
flavors in my mouth and a
tong of soup from the Momo counter
back to work that late afternoon.