upping the umami, the fifth taste

“Umami is the last-to-be discovered fifth basic taste, along with sweet, sour, bitter, and salty, and triggers a distinct class of taste receptors on the tongue. ... The most notorious (and often unjustifiably maligned) source of umami is monosodium glutamate (MSG), the sodium salt of a naturally-occurring amino acid.”

a chicken soup recipe^ says it’s time,
time to up the umami,
me-the-no-cook is sidelined and intrigued,
then taken to another place

sweet, sour, bitter and salty
are the tastes of you life,
but it’s time to up the game
release the amino acids of my fingers
into her body, the tasting menu scrapped,
go direct to the boardwalk hotel,
railroad her unto my jail,
teach and share the notorious
fifth perception of loves taste,
the elixir of our combinatory sensationalism






————-

The Best Chicken Soup with Rice, Carrots, and Kale
Saveur
Tomato paste and fish sauce add depth and umami to our best-ever chicken-and-rice soup studded with sweet carrots and silky kale.

Talk to me like rosemary and oil,
Like the sour with the sweet,
The heat of the noodle stew,
The first sip of a red wine,
The juicy steak with thyme
And shiitake
Look at me with eyes as gravy
And talk to me like honey
That drips like melting ice,
Like fennel and onions,
And biscuits with peaches
Talk to me like umami risotto,
With leeks
Like viola lemonade
And cinnamon cherry pie
With lime
Sip me like your creamy earl grey
And talk to me like toast and egg,
Like bergamot marmalade
Talk to me this way

moist folds,
pink origami,
a woman's blossom,
deflowered.

hot as hibachi,
my fingers burn,
with exquisite flavors,
tasted.

wanting more,
of what she has to give,
a veritable buffet,
sights and flavors.

salty and sweet,
tastebuds titillated,
all natural,
umami.

then bodies,
tangle and fold,
in living sculpture,
origami

This' the taste of the unknown,

Love, an emotion 'mongst the strongest

This' the sound of silent roars.

Life, a journey 'mongst the longest.

I think divorce papers taste like the ash of a ciggratte falling from his lips when he told her the news.

Like whiskey burning firey hot as it slides down the back of your throat,

with bitter sweet tears pooling in with umami ink, the saltiness hitting the tongue like the papers to the floor, a weeping widow who does not suffer from a death but an absence.

I think divorce papers cut up throats like the edge of a chip, swallowing the news over and over again does not seem to make it go down any easier.

I think divorce papers digest like a cheap meal, the kind that you know will give you trouble, but also know is better for you in the end.

matiyaga kang pinapasan ng
mamang nangumpisal sa salamin,
umami't umako ng karnal na
pagkakamali. habang ang karamiha'y

mga miron sa silong ng tirik na araw,
namamanata sa ritwal ng pag-ulit,
pagpako't pagpapasakit sa huling
Adan na nabayubay. upang ang

kapirasong kahoy ay maging kahulugan,
upang ang kahuluga'y maging ehemplo.
templo at tiyempo ng mga himno ng
mga epokrito't espasyo ng hunghang na

pagsamba.

ang balikat ay hudyong Kristo, ang kamay ay
romano. paano kaya kung ang idolo
ng impostor ay sa silya elektrika hinatulan,
papasanin din kaya ito ng walang alinlangan?

The culmination of the battle,
Between salty and sour,
Peppered to perfection.
The sweetness of caramelized onions,
The tickling aroma of browned garlic,
In a beautiful confetti of scallions.
Warm and tender meat,
Drenched in an otherworldy sauce,
Bursting with umami and flavor.
A product of love and spices,
Filling both our bellies and hearts,
It never fails to remind me of home.
But mom, you see,
In all these years, I've come to know,
Of all your versions of Adobo,
The best ones are made,
When you share it with me.

i’d love to sugar your mouth,
gumdrops a sour lipstick compared to
umami tongue flickering with laughter

your hands are like syrup around mine
and i find it fitting to drown often
infinitely into the parfait puzzle piece.

“i haven’t eaten in days” i breathe on your
face while we forget that the playstation
whines still. “me either” your eyelash falls
on my shoulder and we dine on eachother instead.

The tree is beautiful
But nothing compares
To the roots.

Melodies catch attention
But songs are empty
Without the harmonies.

Youth is sharp
But life is simple
Without the depth of age.

Teach me your roots.
Sing me your harmonies.
Let me be there to see the development
Of every crease,
Every wrinkle,
Every stupendous
Life-giving breath.