OH, SING TO ME OF OK

THE WORLD IS BLESSED WITH A BOUNTY OF POETRY ABOUT OKRA, and this does not surprise me in the slightest.

- KAT KINSMAN

The verses run the gamut from the ridiculous (musings on its mucilaginous texture and the polarizing nature thereof) to the reverent (reflections on okra as a totem of survival, every last syllable both earnest and earned). Okra doesn't just happen by accident; you either have to be in a place that embraces it, or you have to will it into your life because you have realized you cannot be your full self without this singular and perfect vegetable.

"Whenever I see okra popping up, it is a way for me to connect with my ancestors. Really, that's how deep it is," Pierre Thiam, chef and author of the upcoming cookbook Simply West African, tells me on a recent phone call. Thiam and I had met a few years back, and when he told me that okra is his favorite food, I showed him the flowering red okra stem I have tattooed on the back of my left arm. It started a conversation I hope will go on for ages. "Okra is spiritual, and that's why it's not for everyone," Thiam says. "Many are called, but few are chosen. I feel that way when I see people who don't like okra. I feel bad for them. I'm like, 'Oh, sorry, more for me.

To acknowledge me is to acknowledge the soil. To marvel at black cardamom, cinnamon, fried okra.
-Excerpt from "Lost Jewels" by Megha Rao (2022)