#foodpoetry
In the heart of your kitchen, where the warmth does dwell,
A tale of roast chicken, I’m about to tell.
Gather these items, let the story unfurl,
In a dance of flavours, as around the kitchen you whirl.
A chicken, whole and plump, the star of our tale,
Olive oil, salt, and pepper, in detail.
A lemon, large and ripe, and garlic cloves four,
Herbs freshly picked, oh, who could ask for more?
Onions two, carrots three, and celery stalks in line,
Together they'll create a flavour so divine.
Preheat your oven, to two hundred degrees,
The stage is now set, cook with ease.
Rinse the chicken, in cold water it bathes,
Dry it with care, in paper towel swathes.
Rub it with oil, and season just right,
Stuff it with lemon, garlic, and herbs, oh what a sight!
Onions, carrots, celery, in a pan they lay,
On top, place the chicken, it’s the star of the play.
Roast it well, for an hour and a half,
Until juices run clear, it's done on behalf.
Remove it from the oven, let it rest and breathe,
Fifteen minutes of patience, good things to those who wait, believe.
Carve the chicken, serve with veggies roasted,
A meal well made, to be joyously toasted.
Remember, dear cook, to adjust as you need,
For ovens and chickens may differ indeed.
Now enjoy your meal, in the warmth of your dwelling,
And that's the end of the tale; I was so joyously telling.
Feb 12
Feb 12, 2026 at 3:16 PM UTC
In the land of golden spuds,
where the butter freely flows,
A kilogram of potatoes,
shaped into barrels,
they transpose.
Half the butter melts away
in a pan on medium heat;
The potatoes join the dance,
turning gently,
20 minutes in the oven—
browning neat.
A sprinkle of salt, a dash of pepper—
to the dance they lend their flavour;
The remaining butter joins the fray,
a taste for tongues to savour.
The dance concludes:
the spuds are tender,
their golden skin agleam;
Garnished with fresh parsley,
like a dream within a dream.
Now ready for the ball,
by the side of roast chicken—
what a call.
Feb 12
Feb 12, 2026 at 3:30 PM UTC
In the realm
of the oven,
preheated, waiting
standing by.
A large cauliflower
is prepared
under the
watchful eye.
Cut to florets,
blanched in
boiling water’s
warm embrace.
Drained and placed
in a
baking dish,
awaiting mornay’s
grace.
Butter melts softly;
flour joins in—
a gentle
roux begins.
Milk is added,
stirring smooth,
a creamy
brew begins.
Cheese is grated;
half is melted;
seasoning joins
the fray.
Over cauliflower,
the mornay
pours warmly—
ready for
the oven’s play.
Golden and bubbling
after minutes
twenty five,
she emerges—
joy alive.
All dressed, golden,
ready for
the ball;
a dance
with Chicken
and Château—
that’s her
call.
Feb 12
Feb 12, 2026 at 3:45 PM UTC
In the pan
where the roast once lay,
Drippings remain—
not thrown away.
Over medium heat
the pan is placed;
A delicious journey
we’re soon to taste.
Two spoons of flour,
sprinkled with care,
Stirred into drippings—
a perfect pair.
A roux is born
as it starts to brown;
In this kitchen act
no room for a frown.
Broth is poured
in a steady stream,
Stirred through the roux
until it gleams.
Scrape the pan
to free the bits—
Each one adding
to flavour’s hits.
Bring to a boil,
then let it simmer;
Watch the gravy
thicken and glimmer.
Five minutes or ten—
your choice, your blend;
Our gravy journey
nears its end.
Season with salt
and pepper’s bite;
Adjust to taste
until it’s right.
Strain the gravy,
smooth and hot—
The perfect partner
to your roast, fear not.
Serve it proudly,
this gravy so grand—
A masterpiece crafted
by your own hand.
The Ballad of Roast Gravy,
a tale to enjoy—
A delicious poem
for every girl and boy.
Feb 12
Feb 12, 2026 at 3:53 PM UTC
A glass jar lay in the refrigerator
a shallow pool of dark juice inside
dated last summer
last legs.
Rewind a little and its filled to the brim
white blobs are packed tight
white but purple
color revealed.
Rewind even farther and it's 'new'
I say we should make it last
dad's excited too
pickled beets!
Rewind more and two friends are picking
***** hands, sweaty brow, farm day fun
thanks for company
kind charity.
Rewind more and friend is picking beets
family trip to the farm for groceries
preserving the extra
time shares.
Roots like community spirit,
purple juice infectious like kindness.
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 9:51 PM UTC