{"id":62,"date":"2015-09-27T23:42:55","date_gmt":"2015-09-27T23:42:55","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/aubrieamstutz.com\/?page_id=62"},"modified":"2015-09-27T23:42:55","modified_gmt":"2015-09-27T23:42:55","slug":"helping-shell-peas","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/aubrieamstutz.com\/index.php\/pongeparent\/helping-shell-peas\/","title":{"rendered":"Helping Shell Peas"},"content":{"rendered":"\n\n\n
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\"ID-10048965\"<\/a>
*This image courtesy of Simon Howden at Freedigitalphotos.net.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Helping Shell Peas<\/b><\/p>\n

It\u2019s that idle hour in the late morning when time seems to hang still- the bowls and crumbs of breakfast now forgotten, the aromas of lunch being cooked still far off, the kitchen is calm, almost abstract. On the waxed tablecloth lies a page of the paper, a pile of peas in their pods, a salad bowl.<\/span><\/p>\n

You never get there at the beginning of the operation. You\u2019re always hurrying across the kitchen to the garden, to see if the mailman has come…<\/span><\/p>\n

-You need help?<\/span><\/p>\n

That goes without saying. Of course you can help. You sit yourself down at the family table and immediately slide into the lulled rhythm of shelling, which seems propelled by some inner metronome. Shelling peas is simple. A squeeze of the thumb on the lip of the pod and it opens up, docile, yielding. Some of them are not quite as ripe, are more reluctant – but a slice with the nail of your pointer finger allows you to tear open the green skin, and to feel the slight moisture and the dense flesh, right under the leathered skin, like an ancient parchment. Afterwards, you glide the delicate spheres out with one finger. The last is so tiny. Occasionally, you have the urge to crunch it carefully between your teeth. It isn\u2019t that good, a little bit bitter, but as fresh as the kitchen at 11am, the kitchen of cold water, skinned vegetables — all in hand\u2019s reach. Right next to the sink some naked carrots lie shining on a towel while they\u2019re drying up. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

You speak in little bursts, and the musicality of the words springs effortlessly, the tempo is peaceable, familiar. From time to time, you lift your head up to look at the other person, at the end of a sentence; but your companion keeps their head tilted — it\u2019s part of the ritual. You speak of work, of projects, of weariness — just the simple facts, nothing to deep. Shelling peas is not designed for explaining, but for getting on with it, for keeping up the slightly offbeat rhythm, which is a rhythm in itself. It should only take five minutes, but it\u2019s nice to prolong it, to slow down the morning, pod by pod, with rolled up sleeves. You run your hands through the shelled beads which fill the salad bowl. It\u2019s soft; all of the jumbled curves like waves of green water, so that you\u2019re surprised when your hands come out dry. A long silence of bright well-being, and then:<\/span><\/p>\n

– Well, now someone just needs to go and get the bread.<\/span>
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Aider \u00e0 \u00e9cosser \u00a0des petits pois<\/b><\/p>\n

C\u2019est presque toujours \u00e0 cette heure creuse de la matin\u00e9e o\u00f9 le temps ne penche plus vers rien. Oubli\u00e9s les bols et les miettes du petit d\u00e9jeuner, loin encore les parfums mitonn\u00e9s du d\u00e9jeuner, le cuisine est si calme, presque abstraite. Sur la toile cir\u00e9e, juste un carr\u00e9 de journal, un tas de petits pois dans leur gousse, un saladier.<\/span><\/p>\n

On n\u2019arrive jamais au d\u00e9but de l\u2019op\u00e9ration. On traversait la cuisine pour aller au jardin, pour voir si le courrier \u00e9tait pass\u00e9…<\/span><\/p>\n

-Je peux t\u2019aider?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00c7a va de soi. On peut aider. On peut s\u2019asseoir \u00e0 la table familiale et d\u2019embl\u00e9e trouver pour l\u2019\u00e9cossage ce rythme nonchalant, pacifiant, qui semble suscit\u00e9 par un m\u00e9tro-nome int\u00e9rieur. C’est facile, d’\u00e9cosser les petits pois. Une pression du pouce sur la fente de la gousse et elle s’ouvre, docile, offerte. Quelques-unes, moins m\u00fbres, sont plus r\u00e9ticentes – une incision de l’ongle de l’index permet alors de d\u00e9chirer le vert, et de sentir la mouillure et la chair dense, juste sous la peau faussement parchemin\u00e9e. Apr\u00e8s, on fait glisser les boules d’un seul doigt. La derni\u00e8re est si minuscule. Parfois, on a envie de la croquer. Ce n’est pas bon, un peu amer, mais frais comme la cuisine de onze heures, cuisine de l’eau froide, des l\u00e9gumes \u00e9pluch\u00e9s – tout pr\u00e8s, contre l’\u00e9vier, quelques carottes nues brillent sur un torchon, finissent de s\u00e9cher. <\/span><\/p>\n

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Alors on parle \u00e0 petits coups, et l\u00e0 aussi la musique des mots semble venir de l’int\u00e9rieur, paisible, famili\u00e8re. De temps en temps, on rel\u00e8ve la t\u00e8te pour regarder l’autre, \u00e0 la fin d’une phrase ; mais l’autre doit garder la t\u00eate pench\u00e9e – c’est dans le code. On parle de travail, de projets, de fatigue – pas de psychologie. L’\u00e9cossage des petits pois n’est pas con\u00e7u pour expliquer, mais pour suivre le cours, \u00e0 l\u00e9ger contretemps. Il y en aurait pour cinq minutes, mais c’est bien de prolonger, d’alentir le matin, gousse \u00e0 gousse, manches retrouss\u00e9es. On passe les mains dans les boules \u00e9coss\u00e9es qui remplissent le saladier. C’est doux ; toutes ces rondeurs contigu\u00ebs font comme une eau vert tendre, et l’on s’\u00e9tonne de ne pas avoir les mains mouill\u00e9es. Un long silence de bien-\u00eatre clair, et puis : <\/span><\/p>\n

– Il y aura juste le pain \u00e0 aller chercher.<\/span><\/p>\n

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Helping Shell Peas It\u2019s that idle hour in the late morning when time seems to hang still- the bowls and crumbs of breakfast now forgotten, the aromas of lunch being cooked still far off, the kitchen is calm, almost abstract. On the waxed tablecloth lies a page of the paper, a pile of peas in […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":6,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-62","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/aubrieamstutz.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/62","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/aubrieamstutz.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/aubrieamstutz.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/aubrieamstutz.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/aubrieamstutz.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=62"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/aubrieamstutz.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/62\/revisions"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/aubrieamstutz.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/6"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/aubrieamstutz.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=62"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}