Nedjeljna Paella

Svake nedjelje, otkad je mogla pamtiti, Inésin djed pravio je paellu. Ne onu vrstu koju turisti jedu u jeftinim restoranima uz plažu, već onu sporiju, s kostima i šafranom i zecom kad bi bio dobar dan. Pravio ju je na terasi iznad vatre koju bi sam zapalio, čak i sada kad mu je bilo osamdeset i tri.

Every Sunday for as long as she could remember, Inés's grandfather had made paella. Not the kind tourists ate in cheap restaurants by the beach, but the slow kind, with bones and saffron and rabbit on a good day. He made it on the patio over a wood fire he started himself, even now that he was eighty-three.

Ove nedjelje Inés je došla kući iz Madrida da ga vidi. Bio je mršaviji nego prošli put. Kretao se opreznije. Ali kad je ušla na terasu, već je bio čučnuo kraj vatre, podešavajući drva dugim željeznim štapom.

This Sunday Inés had come home from Madrid to see him. He was thinner than the last time. He moved more carefully. But when she walked into the patio, he was already crouched by the fire, adjusting the logs with a long iron stick.

"Kasniš," rekao je, ne okrećući se. Uvijek bi to rekao, čak i kad bi došla ranije.

"You're late," he said, without turning around. He always said this even when she was early.

Kleknula je pored njega i pogledala u tavu. Riža je tek počela upijati juhu. Kuhinja iza njih mirisala je na češnjak i ružmarin. Njena baka bila je negdje unutra, lupajući tanjurima po stolu.

She knelt next to him and looked at the pan. The rice was just starting to absorb the broth. The kitchen behind them smelled like garlic and rosemary. Her grandmother was somewhere inside, banging plates onto the table.

Pokazao je štapom na tavu. "Ti pazi na ovu. Ne miješaj. Ljudi koji miješaju paellu ne razumiju paellu."

He pointed at the pan with his stick. "You watch this one. Don't stir it. People who stir paella don't understand paella."

Inés se nije pomaknula trideset minuta. Gledala je kako riža mijenja boju, kako dno tave hvata i smeđi se, kako djed gleda nju. Kad je konačno skinuo tavu s vatre, jednom je kimnuo. Nije trebala da kaže išta drugo.

Inés didn't move for thirty minutes. She watched the rice change color, watched the bottom of the pan catch and brown, watched her grandfather watch her. When he finally took the pan off the fire, he nodded once. She did not need him to say anything else.