i must have a barbarian's tongue...
   i must since...
having made the soufflé...
   i found it... mostly unsatisfying...

it's not hard to imagine why...
that it was a cheesy ham savoury soufflé...
no...
that the last time i made
a soufflé was in Edinburgh
circa 2005 at 2nd year university...
no...
that a fried egg on toast is simpler
to make...
   no...

what came first: the chicken, or the egg?
i can't be bothered to quiz myself
about this question:
the ******* soufflé comes after the egg...
the ******* omelette comes after... the ******* egg...
the chicken, ergo... comes prior to the egg...
no squid ink no dinosaurs...

necessity comes prior to invention...
chicken, egg... scrambled eggs...
oh god how many variations are there
of the egg...
that glorious poultry abortion...
i mean: you can live on eggs... starve without them...

what is a soufflé? i heard the comparison...
it's most akin to the lightest variation
of a sponge (cake)...

- something prior, though...
entitled Paris circa 2004 - 2007
ctrl + p... é...

oh ****... i forgot to keep it...
but there was only minor things of note...
we drank wine,
we ate cheese and baguettes...
it was summer...
we were foreigners pestering
the Eiffel Tower
for shade: if you can believe it:
come sunset... we were in our earliest
20s latest of teens...
we were young and life
was yet to frock us in mundane
brick-ah-bricks of tedium(s)
impossibilities... prior to being caged
animals... prior to: the "figure" of 8...
towing tau (T): along by accounts...
2 is Z... but it's never minded
as a figure since no motion is attached
to it... as it already is:
for culinary escapades...

- nonetheless it's just a ****** dumb soufflé...
one trick in the ol' book...
not the apostrophe to hide the otherwise
surd lettering...
akin to 'ere...
          'night...
                awe... awry... tease a tickle
a tremor... a tremendousness...
what's to be readied?
a 50 grams of flour
for the béchamel sauce...
i'm trying to figure out the year
in medieval France
when the soufflé was "invented" /
chemistry culinary antics
came to fruition...

like the mythological year
(by Plato's standards)
when beer was "invented":

motto... help the Africans less...
in vain hope of...
not being called a ****...
less and less...
under the thumb of the new vaccine...
don't help those that despise you...
it's pretty simple... isn't it?
why help those that will scalp & scold you
with cousin integer "blessings"...

the women will sort out their
pennies from their geisha hands
and i've already matched up concerns
with "concerns" that are greatly staking
elite ***** envy with...
a thick... bulb-esque-bulging
of a volume of "violins"...
***** extending from the face
finding the mythological chin
and doubly mythological jaw...

if i were toothless...
imagine...

    i can wait an extra hour for a quiche
before i even consider making
a soufflé...
even though i served it with some
white toast...
not, not even, close, "enough"...
i might not hunt for my food...
but sure as **** i don't butcher it twice...
steak meat: well done...
are, we, having, steak...
or English roast beef?

                i can wait an hour for a quiche...
humour me... why?
a soufflé has no... "bite"... concerning...
it's too fluffy to be considered
scrambled eggs...
it's... pretentious like...
            Belvedere is... a name for
White House... pretentious...
synonym-ous...

question: does it, would it, could it ever
make a difference
whether or not the beaten egg whites
are folded in... a figure of 8...
or whether turning anti-clockwise...
or whether turning the wooden spoon
clockwise...
made... or makes... all that necessary
sort of detail...
perhaps when detailing the process of
meat from once butchered...
second... served... bloodied guff-trap
"Argentinian"...
my oath for perfecting what's
to be consecrated on the guillotine...
i.e. made... edible...

if i were to eat drowned kitten sushi...
dining lobster "giggle"...
what i might **** i would subsequently eat...
yes...

puffy butter-smeared whabbits:
odes to a lost trill of the R in english...

- i can wait an extra 30 minutes for a quiche...
i have a barbarians' tongue:
i will hardly appreciate a soufflé...
how well or how terrible i can make one
is probably a question for...
no one eating my scrutiny of
vacancy...

a quiche i can wait for...
since there's the short-crust layer readied
for a pie to mind...
the gleeful leeks and bacon...
the inverted take on
milk that's not cream...
butter please...

i must have a barbarian's tongue
when i state. rather plainly...
i'd rather have the rustic
fried egg on toast...
all this...
egg whites beaten...
so the beaten is given the Copernican
"overdue" by being turned upside down
in the whisking "mould"...
alias: bowl... boul is another alias...

for the worth of quiche & soufflé...
it's best that i can make one
in order to make a critique of it...
which?
both quiche... and the soufflé...

in the land of backgammon...
******* prone lamb stink...
of Ottoman Turks...
anything Saudi requires
Israeli justification first...

my first, my first...
my last my last...
my everyday, sunshine
of.. UB... oh... ****... WD-40...
****** in the "convoy"...
well lubricated, though...
like sunshine on oranges
come the... showers...

by peel, my zest... my any & everything...
that citrus... and -esque...
like spine without a head...
yet the head... adorning a cwown...

loiter... angry... for what's to be...
leisured at...
suffocating yoghurt...
gurgle by the troublesome boot...

          i might die the most envious.