A familiar recipe appears in Lina’s careful handwriting. Its unchanged ingredients expose a less certain question: who gets to carry a grandmother’s memory?
01Read the Arabic story
وَصْفَةُ الْعَائِلَةِ بِخَطٍّ آخَرَ
كُنْتُ أَحْسَبُ أَنَّ وَصْفَةَ جَدَّتِي تَسْكُنُ فِي يَدِي، لَا فِي الْوَرَقَةِ الْمُصْفَرَّةِ الَّتِي تَرَكَتْهَا. لِذَلِكَ، حِينَ وَضَعَتْ لِينَا، ابْنَةُ أَخِي، بِطَاقَةً جَدِيدَةً عَلَى طَاوِلَةِ الْمَطْبَخِ، أَزَحْتُهَا قَلِيلًا عَنِّي. كَانَتِ الْمَقَادِيرُ نَفْسُهَا، وَكَانَ الْخَطُّ مُرَتَّبًا إِلَى حَدٍّ لَمْ أَجِدْ مَعَهُ مَوْضِعًا لِذِكْرَيَاتِي عَنِ الْمَلْعَقَةِ الْخَشَبِيَّةِ وَالْعَجِينِ الْمُلْتَصِقِ بِأَصَابِعِنَا. وَلَمْ أَكُنْ قَدْ سَأَلْتُ لِينَا عَنْ ذِكْرَيَاتِهَا هِيَ فِي ذَلِكَ الْمَطْبَخِ.
قَالَتْ لِينَا إِنَّهَا نَسَخَتِ الْوَصْفَةَ لِئَلَّا يَضِيعَ مِنْهَا سَطْرٌ إِذَا تَمَزَّقَ الْأَصْلُ. أَجَبْتُهَا أَنَّ جَدَّتِي لَمْ تَكُنْ تَزِنُ الْمِلْحَ، بَلْ تَعْرِفُهُ بِأَصَابِعِهَا. قُلْتُ ذَلِكَ كَأَنَّنِي أَدَافِعُ عَنْ دِقَّةٍ لَا تَقْدِرُ الْمَوَازِينُ عَلَيْهَا، مَعَ أَنَّنِي كُنْتُ قَدْ أَفْسَدْتُ الْعَجِينَ فِي الشَّهْرِ الْمَاضِي. لَمْ أَذْكُرْ هَذِهِ الْحَادِثَةَ لَهَا.
أَشَارَتْ إِلَى عِبَارَةٍ كَتَبَتْهَا بِقَلَمِ رَصَاصٍ: رَشَّةٌ صَغِيرَةٌ، ثُمَّ نَتَذَوَّقُ. قَالَتْ إِنَّ جَدَّتِي أَمْلَتْهَا عَلَيْهَا فِي أَحَدِ الْأَيَّامِ الَّتِي كُنْتُ فِيهَا مُسَافِرَةً. حَاوَلْتُ أَنْ أَتَذَكَّرَ ذَلِكَ السَّفَرَ، فَلَمْ يَحْضُرْنِي إِلَّا اسْمُ الْمَدِينَةِ. أَمَّا لِينَا فَوَصَفَتْ كَيْفَ كَانَتْ جَدَّتِي تُبْعِدُ عُلْبَةَ الْقِرْفَةِ عَنْ طَرَفِ الطَّاوِلَةِ كُلَّمَا وَضَعَتْهَا لِينَا قُرْبَهُ.
كَانَتْ حَرَكَةً أَعْرِفُهَا، وَلَكِنِّي لَمْ أَكُنْ أَحْتَفِظُ بِهَا فِي حِكَايَاتِي. سَأَلْتُ لِينَا مَا إِذَا كَانَتْ تَذْكُرُ غِنَاءَ جَدَّتِي أَثْنَاءَ الْعَمَلِ. قَالَتْ إِنَّهَا تَذْكُرُ صَمْتَهَا أَكْثَرَ. كِدْتُ أُصَحِّحُ لَهَا، ثُمَّ انْشَغَلْتُ بِفَتْحِ الْعُلْبَةِ. لَمْ يَكُنِ الصَّمْتُ دَلِيلًا عَلَى أَنَّهَا أَقَلُّ قُرْبًا، وَلَا الْغِنَاءُ الَّذِي حَفِظْتُهُ دَلِيلًا عَلَى أَنَّنِي أَعْرِفُ كُلَّ شَيْءٍ.
طَلَبَتْ مِنِّي لِينَا أَنْ أَكْتُبَ اسْمَ جَدَّتِي فَوْقَ الْمَقَادِيرِ. أَمْسَكْتُ الْقَلَمَ، ثُمَّ سَأَلْتُهَا أَيْنَ تُرِيدُ أَنْ تَضَعَ اسْمَهَا. تَرَدَّدَتْ، وَاقْتَرَحَتْ ظَهْرَ الْبِطَاقَةِ. لَمْ نَحْسِمِ الْمَسْأَلَةَ؛ فَقَدْ صَارَ الْعَجِينُ جَاهِزًا. وَحِينَ طَلَبَتِ الْمِلْحَ، نَاوَلْتُهَا عُلْبَةَ الْمِلْحِ، وَنَظَرْتُ إِلَى الْبِطَاقَةِ لِأَقْرَأَ مَا سَنَفْعَلُهُ بَعْدَ ذَلِكَ.
Show English translationHide English translation
I used to think my grandmother’s recipe lived in my hand, not on the yellowed sheet she had left. So when Lina, my brother’s daughter, placed a new card on the kitchen table, I shifted it a little away from me. The quantities were the same, and the handwriting was so orderly that I could find no space in it for my memories of the wooden spoon and the dough sticking to our fingers. I had not asked Lina about her own memories in that kitchen.
Lina said she had copied the recipe so that no line would be lost if the original tore. I replied that my grandmother had never weighed the salt: she knew it with her fingers. I said this as though defending a precision that scales could not achieve, although I had ruined the dough the previous month. I did not mention that incident to her.
She pointed to a phrase she had written in pencil: “A small pinch, then we taste.” She said my grandmother had dictated it to her one day when I was away. I tried to remember that trip, but only the city’s name came to mind. Lina, however, described how my grandmother kept moving the cinnamon tin away from the edge of the table whenever Lina put it near the edge.
It was a gesture I knew, but had not kept in my stories. I asked Lina whether she remembered my grandmother singing while she worked. She said she remembered her silence more. I almost corrected her, then occupied myself with opening the tin. The silence did not prove that she had been less close, nor did my remembered singing prove that I knew everything.
Lina asked me to write my grandmother’s name above the ingredients. I took the pencil, then asked where she wanted to put her own name. She hesitated and suggested the back of the card. We did not settle the matter: the dough was ready. When she asked for the salt, I passed her the salt tin and looked at the card to read what we would do next.
02Useful words from the story
| Arabic in the story | Meaning here |
|---|---|
| الْوَرَقَةِ الْمُصْفَرَّةِ | the yellowed sheet |
| الْمَقَادِيرُ | the quantities of ingredients |
| الْمُلْتَصِقِ | sticking |
| الْمَوَازِينُ | the scales |
| رَشَّةٌ صَغِيرَةٌ | a small pinch |
| أَمْلَتْهَا | she dictated it |
| عُلْبَةَ الْقِرْفَةِ | the cinnamon tin |
| أُصَحِّحُ | I correct |
| ظَهْرَ الْبِطَاقَةِ | the back of the card |
| نَاوَلْتُهَا | I handed her |
03Check your understanding
Read for perspective, implication and the limits of remembered evidence. Choose one answer for each question; open the English support when needed.
What to remember
- The narrator’s omitted failure qualifies her confident defence of inherited instinct.
- Lina’s quieter memory adds another relationship without erasing the narrator’s experience.
Explore the Arabic in this story
Related grammar and vocabularyOpen Araqick guides connected to this story.
Arabic Relative Pronouns: Joining Ideas with Alladhi and Allati
الْوَرَقَةِ الْمُصْفَرَّةِ الَّتِي تَرَكَتْهَا
Follow allati as it introduces a description of the yellowed sheet.
Lam in Arabic: How to Say “Did Not”
لَمْ أَذْكُرْ هَذِهِ الْحَادِثَةَ لَهَا
Read lam with the jussive to notice information deliberately withheld.
