Apfelstrudel
Timeworn café in Berlin,
the parents of apfelstrudel.
Warm Christmastide notes of cinnamon, linger
and anticipation of plunging a fork
into crackling pastry,
splitting flaked almonds
revealing glistening gold
and the scent of late autumn.
Hedgerowild
Haws, hips and sloes
on heath and hillside.
Wine dark jewels
and crimson rosehips.
Dusty sloes pepper canal paths.
Bright orange berries hang on Rowan’s arm.
Magical woodland.
Heathland.
Berryland.
Wise Elderberries know their fate.
We celebrate
with hedgerow liqueur,
majestic jam
and jelly.
Yet,
behind a garland of green
a cluster of shiny blackberry eyes
blink.
Whisk in Love
Take one large life
and fill with four essential ingredients;
Love,
Food,
Shelter,
Education.
Firstly, heat oven to Gas Mark 88.
Use the Shelter as a base.
Sieve two grams of Education into the Life,
and cream, together, with the Shelter,
slowly,
over several decades.
Add Food, sparingly.
You don’t want the mixture to ooze over the top of the tin.
Food, which obviously depends on your climate,
MUST be locally sourced,
otherwise, the recipe won’t work.
Whisk in 7,867 grams of Love.
Make sure you get air into it,
and that it blends with the other ingredients.
This is crucial.
All ingredients are equally important.
(However, some think otherwise….)
Shake the mixture a few times on the table
to encourage any
large lumps of negativity
to come to the surface,
then immediately crush with your fingertips.
When mixture is complete
pour into a lined 5 foot human shaped tin
and bake for eighty years.
Test with a skewer to see if it’s cooked.
If it shouts in pain
it’s done.
Let it cool and decorate however the hell you want.
Go wild!
Serve warm with a coulis of Happy Sauce.
Chefantics
I am a starched white culinary creator
And I’m flipping crêpes….
Crêpes…
Suzette?
Savoury or sweet?
We always taste them.
A chef’s treat.
Crêpes.
Destined to delight
the most discerning customer,
who is always right.
Right?
But I’m not only a crêpe chef.
Wrist on overdrive
whisks up a frenzy
to perfect dill sauce
before the flaked fish fillet
grows cold.
Finish with a fence of jerseys,
doll’s house trees
and fresh parsley.
I pretend I am a giant chef
making raisin rain,
dropping dried grapes into a soft, talcumed nest.
A powdered cloud.
Wobbly saffron vitellus
congregate
on sweet golden sand.
Sheen of dayglo marg
dazzles.
Fingernails imprison cake mix.
Itchy nose remains unattended.
Magic mixture
glooped into clasped tin.
You’ll never be the same again.
It awaits
Aga transformation.
A cakeification.
Here comes
six separate orders for
the dreaded full English.
Ten different items on one plate.
Don’t overcook the eggs!
Must preserve yolk
for essential soldier dippage.
Breakfast at the Waldorf.
Egg’s Benedict.
Stock broker’s hangover cure…
Chef’s in a daze
making hookers of hollandaise.
The devil sauce de curdle
responsible
for waste,
if you’re in haste.
It’s all about the timing
A bit like rhyming!
Service over.
Pint of fizz
on breezy balcony.
Breathe…..
Bliss….
Starched whites now creased greys
splashed
with food paint.
Beetroot bled into crusted batter.
Fingerprints of cocoa.
Pips of tomato.
Hass avocado.
Ripe morello.
Remnant apron of art.
Chefs?
We’re flipping crêpes!
Comfort Food
So, let me hug you
with arms of freshly baked baguette.
Let me refresh you
with breaths of cool vinaigrette.
Let me seduce you
with eyes of tempting chocolate cake.
So, let me drench you
with tears of strawberry milkshake.