‘Twas a sultry night, when you solemnly inquired –
“Would you like to have a piece of meat?”
A conscientious vegan like myself, rarely required
such unwarranted delicacies to eat.
Startled as I was, to myself I reasoned:
” it’s not as if I indulge every day –
and if a prime rib beckons, so perfectly seasoned
then even I’m allowed to go astray ”
you proffered to me, a choicey cut
Yet I waited for the perfect buy-ins;
lean and trim, the steaks were high, but–
the deal was only for the tenderloins.
Alas dear reader, that is where I mistook
my desires for a saucy brisket,
for in truth it was that I fancied the cook
but such emotions to flourish – I couldn’t risk it.
To grill is a skill that must be honed –
To be well-done is indeed so rare!
the merriment came not from being T-boned
though it wasn’t half bad, to be rather fair.
And oh my dear you had me speared
upon your metaphorical spit,
and thus Impaled like kabobs I seared,
upon fires of desires that befit.
One such night, I denied myself a meal
thinking it to be fine and dandy
what did it matter, venison or veal
when in truth, I wasn’t really randy
To my shock, what I had thought was written-
as my appetite for fleshy delights,
was instead that I was undoubtedly smitten,
indulging my fancies in the chef’s invites.
Oh then I realized, I was in a stew
of a situation I never appraised
My untimely declaration sent your spits askew
When I said I want you preserved, not braised.
And of course, as I knew, you shook your head
said kinds words and went on ahead
But dearest, nigh a mo’ had I expected more
than being hastily pushed out of the door.
For cooks cook, but must not be mistook
for another entree to be had, for sure.
The dish is what the cook will cook
but the cook is not the dish d’jour.
Cured I was of such carnal an error
much wiser a decision I’d made I wish
for a recipe for disaster is every chef’s terror
when a patron, as I, butchers a perfect dish.
A lesson I learnt, one you taught so fast
’twas not a lesson in grilling —
but to choose a more delectable repast
one that thought that I was equally thrilling.
But to be fair, I give credit much deserved
to a palatable person as you
for Grade A and gourmet are commonly served
and yet only to you I succumbed without ado.
For as a vegan, I religiously abstain
from undue pleasures of the flesh
yet while the romps of meats were not in vain
I paid my compliments only to the chef…
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 2:19 PM UTC
‘Twas a sultry night, when you solemnly inquired –
“Would you like to have a piece of meat?”
A conscientious vegan like myself, rarely required
such unwarranted delicacies to eat.
Startled as I was, to myself I reasoned:
” it’s not as if I indulge every day –
and if a prime rib beckons, so perfectly seasoned
then even I’m allowed to go astray ”
you proffered to me, a choicey cut
Yet I waited for the perfect buy-ins;
lean and trim, the steaks were high, but–
the deal was only for the tenderloins.
Alas dear reader, that is where I mistook
my desires for a saucy brisket,
for in truth it was that I fancied the cook
but such emotions to flourish – I couldn’t risk it.
To grill is a skill that must be honed –
To be well-done is indeed so rare!
the merriment came not from being T-boned
though it wasn’t half bad, to be rather fair.
And oh my dear you had me speared
upon your metaphorical spit,
and thus Impaled like kabobs I seared,
upon fires of desires that befit.
One such night, I denied myself a meal
thinking it to be fine and dandy
what did it matter, venison or veal
when in truth, I wasn’t really randy
To my shock, what I had thought was written-
as my appetite for fleshy delights,
was instead that I was undoubtedly smitten,
indulging my fancies in the chef’s invites.
Oh then I realized, I was in a stew
of a situation I never appraised
My untimely declaration sent your spits askew
When I said I want you preserved, not braised.
And of course, as I knew, you shook your head
said kinds words and went on ahead
But dearest, nigh a mo’ had I expected more
than being hastily pushed out of the door.
For cooks cook, but must not be mistook
for another entree to be had, for sure.
The dish is what the cook will cook
but the cook is not the dish d’jour.
Cured I was of such carnal an error
much wiser a decision I’d made I wish
for a recipe for disaster is every chef’s terror
when a patron, as I, butchers a perfect dish.
A lesson I learnt, one you taught so fast
’twas not a lesson in grilling —
but to choose a more delectable repast
one that thought that I was equally thrilling.
But to be fair, I give credit much deserved
to a palatable person as you
for Grade A and gourmet are commonly served
and yet only to you I succumbed without ado.
For as a vegan, I religiously abstain
from undue pleasures of the flesh
yet while the romps of meats were not in vain
I paid my compliments only to the chef…