The magic spoon - (magical realism)

I once saw the spoon in the museum.

It was a beautiful wooden spoon with the emblem of a grain of wheat engraved on the handle.

My grandmother had inherited it two generations ago and since then it has passed from hand to hand among our relatives. The figure of the virgin of the valley was hand carved on the handle.

I started cooking with her and something funny happened every time I took her: she started mixing and cooking all of her soups by herself.

She mixed, added ingredients and cooked everything.

At first I couldn't believe what she was witnessing, but over time I got used to it. It seemed that the spoon had a culinary secret, it cooked by itself.

In my mind, this highlighted my cooking skills.

Over time, the news spread throughout the neighborhood and every morning, people came to my house to witness how the spoon prepared the food.

It measured two tablespoons of curry, two tablespoons of lemon, two pinches of oil, a little crushed garlic and olive oil, topped with a generous portion of sweet chilli.

All those aromas made people salivate, eager to try.

However, the spoon hit the kitchen counter loudly as a warning not to get too close, marking the limits that they had to respect, and then she herself filled the soup plates and handed them to each of the attendees.

In my mind, people applauded the spoon, but in reality, I was the one who did everything.

Children, young people and grandparents returned home with full stomachs and happy hearts.

Their applause was a reminder to hurry up to serve them their food, since hunger was pressing.

People listen to it in the mornings, when it happily knocks on the edge of the kitchen to let them know that lunch is ready.

But it is nothing more than the sound of the ding dong of my daily call that announces another succulent lunch ready to be enjoyed.

In reality, it's just my own voice, projecting my dreams and joys to everyone around me. There is no magic spoon, but I am happy to see how delicious the food is every day and how much people enjoy it.

And here, as a whole family, we continue to enjoy it!

The spoon continued to be part of our family until another relative inherited a flying chair, and everyone forgot the magic of it.

That's how my grandparents told me, like a beautiful family tradition.