The Sunday Whirl presents twelve words for us to use in a creative writing piece:
Nibbles, slithers, spoon, platform, shards, root, constellations, limbs, dreary, spell, shake, wet
I confess I didn't use them all
The Chief.
It was a high-class affair where every day he’d prepare
Extraordinary culinary thrills.
This was no “Eat at Joe’s”. No, not even close
T’was platform to showcase his skills.
He used spoons in a way that the experts would say
Was surely poetry in motion, (they’d know).
His root veg were fine diced, then pureed and spiced
But it was all a bit of a show
A show,
A show,
It was all a bit of a show.
Extraordinary culinary thrills.
This was no “Eat at Joe’s”. No, not even close
T’was platform to showcase his skills.
He used spoons in a way that the experts would say
Was surely poetry in motion, (they’d know).
His root veg were fine diced, then pureed and spiced
But it was all a bit of a show
A show,
A show,
It was all a bit of a show.
Each day was a quest to better the best,
What joys would he next unleash?
He used shards of toffee to sweeten black coffee
And slivers of truffle in the quiche
It had to be seen what he did with green beans
And his souffles invariably thrilled.
His batters were beery but never thought dreary
And the fish queued up to be grilled.
To be grilled
To be grilled
The fish queued up to be grilled.
What joys would he next unleash?
He used shards of toffee to sweeten black coffee
And slivers of truffle in the quiche
It had to be seen what he did with green beans
And his souffles invariably thrilled.
His batters were beery but never thought dreary
And the fish queued up to be grilled.
To be grilled
To be grilled
The fish queued up to be grilled.
Michellin said ‘Huzzah!’, we’ve found a new star
A constellation to rival Orion.
This chef is so swell, we are all in his spell
And he does it with out even tryin’.
But never let it said that it went to his head
The staff, he considered them blood-line.
At the end of the night, they dimmed all the lights
And nibbled on cheese and red wine,
Red wine,
Red wine,
They nibbled on cheese and red wine.
A constellation to rival Orion.
This chef is so swell, we are all in his spell
And he does it with out even tryin’.
But never let it said that it went to his head
The staff, he considered them blood-line.
At the end of the night, they dimmed all the lights
And nibbled on cheese and red wine,
Red wine,
Red wine,
They nibbled on cheese and red wine.
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Can I invite him round?
ReplyDeleteAm wondering, since we make green beans in so many different ways here, what the michellin version would be like!!!!!
ReplyDeleteOh I love this photo of the younger Cosmo. Your love of cuisine shines through. Love the rhyme and rhythm as well Chapeau !
ReplyDeleteOh, very nice! In all sorts of ways.
ReplyDeleteYou depictions are a wonderful read and tasty delight! Also, I must try toffee in black coffee. :)
ReplyDeleteOne of the most enjoyable, fun, rhythmic poems about chefdom I have ever had the pleasure of reading!! Bravo. Bravo. Cheers to the Chef.
ReplyDeletei wonder if you can have too much red wine, perhaps not !! Love the rhymes.
ReplyDeleteI cook and when I feel I've perfected a dish I lose desire to cook it again unless there's a demand. Like healthy pizzas from scratch. My kids loved mine, all wanted my recipe. Then never again.
ReplyDelete..
Jim for the above.
DeleteI may pour a glass of red and read this again!
ReplyDeleteLoved the rhythm and rhymes in this!
ReplyDeleteI especially like the part about the fish queueing up to be grilled. And the sing song rhythm.
ReplyDeleteThis was so much fun to read. I admire a man who can cook and Michellin honors no less.
ReplyDelete