It was a four burner stove
two of which still worked.
Money was always tight,
our parents refusing to understand
what it cost beyond tuition, room and board
to be a student, forgiven for they
had never gone to college.
We became masters of cheap cooking,
two steps beyond ketchup and water
but the cheapest tomato sauce
we could find, and sale herbs
well past their “use by” dates.
And Spam or Vienna sausage was
marginally edible if you bathed it
in a heavily onioned cheap sauce.
Don’t ask what courses I was taking
that year, the simple answer was
anything I needed to graduate on time,
and learning had nothing to do with it.
I remember this as I stir
the slowly simmering, peeled
and chopped Roma tomatoes,
fresh basil and oregano, and a hint
of a good shiraz, knowing the artisan
pasta will soon enough enjoy my work.