Jaew Goes in hot. Comes out hot. But this may be more than the casual student Will want to know. Mom’s grinding chilies for me in Modesto. Red, green, a dash of fresh cilantro, Fermented shrimp sauce and a pinch of salt Between her mortar and pestle. Dabbing a sticky ball of khao nhio Into the tiny ceramic saucer, I know She’s a sorceress In her kitchen Trying to find a way to say She loves me, hoping my prodigal tongue Is still Lao enough To understand what her broken English cannot convey. My eyes are cisterns of tears after 30 years. I should say “mak phet” and grab some cold milk But with a smile through the pain I stammer “Saep lai, Mae, delicious, Mom. Saep lai, hak Mae lai lai.” “Don’t talk, just eat,” she says between her tears.
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