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Last Birthday

Winner Year 9/10 Melbourne Food & Wine Festival Young Writer Competition
Gen Calder Age 14 Year 9 Melbourne Girls Grammar School
"The Best Meal I Ever Had - The Birthday Party"

The door opened, and he stepped into the entrance hall laden with a large cane picnic basket and a bunch of flowers. Walking slowly past the armchairs and sleeping people he sniffed the air and smelt the heaviness of old age. The door closed quietly, and he stopped abruptly calming himself with the comforting weight of his basket. The nurse signalled for him to follow and they entered a dimly lit room. Its six occupants were all resting peacefully and he sank quietly into her armchair.

She lay thin against the fluffy pillow and looked pale in its whiteness. Her soft grey hair moved gently with her breathing but the rest was silent and still. He watched a while longer but his presence stirred no life into her body and so his attention moved to the basket.

The pot was still steaming and as he lifted the lid, his life outside came back to him. He opened his eyes and examined its contents. The pasta had to be cooked to perfection, al dente, and yet be slightly slimy to complement the pesto’s smooth oiliness. He inhaled deeply and allowed the aromas of Italy to sink in until he could taste the lingering basil and its change to a more powerful saltiness. She stirred slowly and he watched as her senses were reawakened. Her eyes opened and looked confusedly at her visitor. He smiled sadly and handed her the flowers with a kiss on each cheek, knowing he had not been recognised.

He tossed the spaghetti methodically and listened to her incoherent chatter. She sat up suddenly, agitated... where are the horses? Where did you tie the horses?... they mustn’t be too close to the fence else they’ll eat the roses and…but relaxed with his calm reassurances. The oil was good in colour and he splashed it generously over the pasta, before filling their bowls. As he placed the dish in front of her, he wondered where her thoughts had just travelled but she had forgotten and he thought on it no more.

She sighed contentedly and looked up into his face. Her cheeks flushed, the fork clattered loudly as it fell to the floor and she smiled, suddenly alive. He watched anxiously, as her babble became faster before it stopped and changed. He stared, amazed and shaking himself slightly, turned his attention to her story.

    …and it was such a hot day. Everyone was wearing pretty coloured dresses with long sashes but mine was white with yellow trimming. The table was round with lots of decorations and it sat in the garden underneath the willow. Mamma and I kept what we would have for lunch a secret and when she brought out the large steaming pot, none of them could guess what was inside. They simply couldn’t imagine what we Italians would feed them and they were so apprehensive… Her eyes danced brightly as she paused, enjoying her memory and she continued excitedly. They were so worried by its colour and when we all had a full bowl of the home made pasta, they were very reluctant to start…They didn’t even know how to eat! I twirled my fork quickly and tasted the delicious basil…but when I looked up they were using their gelati spoons. Pasta went everywhere, and their dresses were spattered with oil but no one noticed or cared, everyone was intoxicated by a fresh steaming pot of…She was silent and stared at the bowl in front of her. I had never had so much fun with the Australian girls and as they ate more and more Mamma whispered jokes to me in Italian and I laughed loudly at all of them…Mamma always said you could make friends with her pasta and she was right…Even I shan’t forget that day…

Her voice faded and she lay motionless, smiling dreamily. He was silent and twirled his fork in wonderment.

She lay thin against the fluffy pillow and looked pale in its whiteness. He packed the plates into the basket and prepared to leave. Her soft grey hair moved gently with her breathing but the rest was silent and still. He lent down and kissed her gently on each cheek. Her eyes did not move but they twinkled and he knew that she would not forget either.

What the Judges said:
One of the few stories written in the third person and surprisingly poignant (crying I was). I loved the way her character used the “everydayness” of food prep to assuage his emotions.
Brilliant writing. I cannot believe this is Year 9 work. Very insightful. Uses skilful language and carries the theme perfectly from beginning to end. Love the third person. A clear winner.
Very poignant, great concept, well done.
Complete, subtle, works at several levels in the theme.
This had dimension. A lovely evocation of the power of food. The writer understands the dish and the process as well as the symbolic aspect of her subject.

growing up / cooking food / knowing how / feeling good