Always The bench was always cold when I first sat down. Steam from the pans would fill the room. Hissing, spitting, bubbling She'd always put the plates in the oven first, so they wouldn't crack. Him and me always chopped the mint for the sauce. I always tried to eat some but he always caught me. She'd then pull all the things out of the oven, Or off the stove, Or out of the pantry. The hissing, spitting and bubbling would stop. We'd always sit quietly at the table until our food arrived. Potatoes, beans, carrots, gravy: Roast for them and a burger for me. The smell of our food would fill the room. She'd always offer two drinks: tea and bitter lemon. We'd always choose tea but every week she'd offer. Once the tea was poured and the sugar added we'd eat. He'd cut up all his meal into tiny pieces before taking a bite She'd always eat a bit of the meat to check it was done, before pouring herself more gravy. I'd always eat the potatoes first. We'd all sit there in silence, Knowing the first bite is always the best. Since then people have tried to cook me a meal like that, but food there always tasted better.