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"i don't wanna have to be the one to tell you this,
but you're no foodie; you're just a fat-***
who's too cowardly to take an honest look at yourself.

It's okay to be whatever you want,
just don't lie to yourself proclaiming to be a foodie
to justify late-night trips to Jack in the Box four days a week,
or eating a whole jar of Tostitos 'Salsa con Queso' every two days.

Are you trying to mummify yourself with all those preservatives?

Y'know,
just because you blow most of your paychecks
on gasoline, **** food and overpriced coffee
pulled to the most pretentious of standards
doesn't at all begin to mean that you've got any class, taste, or style,
let alone that you're a foodie.

At least recycle all the paper products your pseudofood comes in.

Moreover, your thighs aren't ******* gluten,
they're all that other junk you eat habitually
while watching your oh-so-edified selection of films
before sleeping it off until 3 in the afternoon.

No wonder you're so full of ****:
you are what you eat, I suppose.

Pull your head on out your ***.

All that fat and cholesterol isn't for the faint of heart."
A bit of a rant. Sorry, but not really.
Raphael Uzor Apr 2014
Slipping into my apron,
Hungry in body and soul
Humming as a song played...

I grab my knife and chop-board
Unsure of what to cook
Strange inspirations possess me
Filling me with *****!

My kitchen becomes a stage
In my hands- a plectrum and fretboard
Silver utensils- my live audience!

As I play divine recipes
Strumming master acoustic chords
Chopping fresh, colorful vegetables.

I dash to the remote,
Punch "Repeat" and dash back on stage
Landing on E♭ minor,
Scaling impossible notes,
I slice with razor-sharp plectrum,
On onions and other root chords
My fret arrayed with colors,
Of spinach, lettuce, tomatoes
Carrots, potatoes, olives
Pepper, cabbage and cucumbers.

I hear a thunder of applause
As I ignite the cooker
Butter sizzling in the hot pan
A staccato of sharp notes,
Ready to modulate innocent vegetables
Through spicy aromatic crescendos!


I fight hard to suppress a sneeze,
No sneezing on-stage! Unprofessional!
Multitudes of seconds rush by and…
Voila!!!

I stand for a moment
Salivating, awed at my bravura!
Wishing I could hang it on my wall
Tis beautiful like art
But I can’t eat this cake and have it!

So I dig in…
Heaven and earth kiss for a moment
L U S C I O U S!!!
Luckily, it didn’t taste nauseating
Like my last attempt.

No time for ceremonies
I munch from pan to mouth
Pausing for what may pass for a prayer,
I relish every bite!
Not that I’m a foodie or something,
But nothing beats this combo-
Of good food and soul music.

And yes,
Music is indeed food to the soul!
I devour, in view- the next meal...


© Raphael Uzor
Inspiration came while cooking and listening to Ayo’s And its Supposed to be Love
Tell me I'm not a foodie :-)
judy smith Nov 2016
Whether in Montreal, where she was born and raised, or in Delhi, where her award-winning brasserie sits, the stylish chef’s love for gastronomy has always run deep. She came to India to chase her passion about eight years ago, after leaving behind an engineering career and having trained at the esteemed ITHQ (Institut de tourisme et d’hôtellerie du Québec). In 2014, she introduced unusual combinations like oysters with charred onion petals, tamarind puree, and rose vinegar when she became the first Indian chef to be invited to host a solo dinner at the James Beard House in New York City. Also presented there was her very own coffee-table book called Eating Stories, packed with charming visuals, tales and recipes.

In pursuit of narratives

“I am studying Ayurveda so, at the moment, I’m inspired by the knowledge and intuition which comes with that, but otherwise I completely live for stories. Those of the people around me — of spices, design forms, music, traditions, history and anything else I feel connected to.”

Culinary muse

“I truly believe that nature is perfect, so I feel privileged to use the ingredients that it provides, while adding my own hues, aromas and combinations…it feels like I get to play endlessly every day.”

After-work indulgence

“My favourite places to eat at are Cafe Lota and Carnatic Cafe in Delhi, and Betony and Brindle Room in NYC.”

Dream dish

“This salad I created called ‘secret garden’. It’s so beautiful to look at and has such a unique spectrum of flavours…all while using only the freshest, most natural produce to create something completely magical.”

Reception blooper

“Most people make the mistake of over-complicating the menu; having too much diversity and quantity. Wastefulness isn’t a good way to start a life together.”

A third-generation entrepreneur from a highly distinguished culinary family, she runs a thriving studio in Khar where state-of-the-art cooking stations and dining tables allow her to conduct a variety of workshops and sessions. Her grandfather is remembered as the man who migrated from Africa to London to found the brand that brought curry to the people of the UK — Patak’s. She took over as brand ambassador, having trained at Leiths School of Food and Wine and taught at one of Jamie Oliver’s schools in London. What’s more, Pathak is also the author of Secrets From My Indian Family Kitchen, a cookbook comprising 120 Indian recipes, published last year in the UK.

Most successful experiment

“When I was writing recipes for my cookbook, I had to test some more than once to ensure they were perfect and foolproof. One of my favourites was my slow-cooked tamarind-glazed pork. I must have trialled this recipe at least six times before publishing it, and after many tweaks I have got it to be truly sensational. It’s perfectly balanced with sweet and sour both.”

Future fantasy

“As strange as it sounds, I’d love to cater my own wedding. You want all your favourite recipes and you want to share this with your guests. I could hire a caterer to create my ideal menu, but I’d much prefer to finalise and finish all the dishes myself so that I’m supremely happy with the flavours I’m serving to my loved ones.”

Fresh elegance

“I’m in love with microgreens for entertaining and events…although not a new trend, they still carry the delicate wow factor and are wonderfully subtle when used well. I’m not into using foams and gels and much prefer to use ingredients that are fuss-free.”

This advertising professional first tested her one-of-a-kind amalgams at The Lil Flea, a popular local market in BKC, Mumbai. Her Indian fusion hot dogs, named Amar (vegetarian), Akbar (chicken) and Anthony (pork), sold out quickly and were a hit. Today, these ‘desi dogs’ are the signature at the affable home-chef-turned-businesswoman’s cafe-***-diner in Bandra, alongside juicy burgers, a fantastic indigenous crème brûlée, and an exciting range of drinks and Sikkim-sourced teas.

Loving the journey

“The best part of the job is the people I meet; the joy I get to see on their faces as they take the first bite. The fact that this is across all ages and social or cultural backgrounds makes it even better. Also, I can indulge a whim — whether it is about the menu or what I can do for a guest — without having to ask anyone. On the flip side, I have no one to blame but myself if the decision goes wrong. And, of course, I can’t apply for leave!”

Go-to comfort meal

“A well-made Bengali khichri or a good light meat curry with super-soft chapattis.”

What’s ‘happening’

“This is a very exciting time in food and entertaining — the traditional and ultra-modern are moving forward together. Farm-to-fork is very big; food is also more cross-cultural, and there is a huge effort to make your guest feel special. Plus, ‘Instagram friendly’ has become key…if it’s not on Instagram, it never happened! But essentially, a party works when everyone is comfortable and happy.”

A word to brides

“Let others plan your menu. You relax and look gorgeous!”

This Le Cordon Bleu graduate really knows her way around aromas that warm the heart. On returning to Mumbai from London, she began to experiment with making small-batch ice creams for family and friends. Now she churns out those ‘cheeky’ creations from a tiny kitchen in Bandra, where customers must ring a bell to get a taste of dark chocolate with Italian truffle oil, salted caramel, milk chocolate and bacon and her signature (a must-try) — blue cheese and honey.

The extra mile

“I’ll never forget the time I created three massive croquembouche towers (choux buns filled with assorted flavours of pastry cream, held together with caramel) for a wedding, and had to deliver them to Thane!”

Menu vision

“For a wedding, I would want to serve something light and fresh to start with, like seared scallops with fresh oysters and uni (sea urchin). For mains, I would serve something hearty and warm — roast duck and foie gras in a red wine jus. Dessert would be individual mini croquembouche!”

Having been raised by big-time foodie parents, the strongest motivation for their decision to take to this path came from their mother, who had two much-loved restaurants of her own while the sisters were growing up — Vandana in Mahim and Bandra Fest on Carter Road. Following the success of the first MeSoHappi in Khar, Mumbai, the duo known for wholesome cooking opened another outlet of the quirky gastro-bar adjoining The Captain’s Table — one of the city’s favourite seafood haunts — in Bandra Kurla Complex.

Chef’s own

AA: “We were the pioneers of the South African bunny chow in Mumbai and, even now, it remains one of my all-time favourites.”

On wedding catering

PA: “The most memorable for me will always be Aarathi’s high-tea bridal shower. I planned a floral-themed sundowner at our home in Cumballa Hill; curtains of jasmine, rose-and-wisteria lanterns and marigold scallops engulfed the space. We served exotic teas, alcoholic popsicles of sangria and mojito, and dishes like seafood pani puri shots and Greek spanakopita with beetroot dip, while each table had bite-sized desserts like mango and butter cream tarts and rose panna cotta.”Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-2016 | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
judy smith May 2016
Don’t take them at face value. Several leading actresses in Mollywood have shown themselves to be keen businesswomen too. So, if Poornima Indrajith, a fashionista in her own right and designer-in-chief of fashion store Pranaah, was the lone name in the list till recently, Kavya Madhavan, Lena, Kaniha, Shwetha Menon, Rima Kallingal and the like too have joined the fray to establish their credentials as entrepreneurs.

While Kavya owns Laksyah, an online fashion store, Rima runs Mamangam, a dance school in Kochi. Lena is busy with Aakruti, her weight-loss centre. Kaniha’s focus is on health care, as a franchise partner of Medall Diagnostics in Chennai. Shwetha, meanwhile, has opened a restaurant, Shwe’s Delight, in Dubai. Mallika Sukumaran owns Spice Boat, a restaurant in Doha, Qatar… The actresses talk at length to MetroPlus about why and how they went about it, the lessons they learnt and what lies ahead.

For Kavya it was the realisation of a long-cherished dream; of starting a business venture while she is at the peak of her career. “I zeroed in on a fashion boutique from several other options, such as dance school, beauty parlour, restaurant…,” says Kavya. “It was the safest and best choice because my father had been in the textile business back home in Neeleeswaram for nearly four decades. My brother, Midhun is a graduate in fashion technology and my mother and my sister-in-law too share the same passion. Laksyah is really a family-run enterprise,” she adds. Laksyah, which sells a range of one-off designer saris and daily wear and based out of Kochi, will be celebrating its first anniversary next month.

It was a photoshoot that lead Lena to open Aakruti. She had to lose a few kilos to get in shape for the shoot and her childhood friend, Louisa David, a physiotherapist, helped her achieve that goal. “I was happy with my weight loss and so we decided to launch a physiotherapy-based slimming centre. Louisa has been running her centre at Thrissur for five years and she helped me start Aakruti, in Chevayur, Kozhikode, in September last year,” Lena says.

Kaniha, always a multi-tasker, has a solid reason for taking the health care route too. It was the closest she could get to her childhood ambition to pursue medicine! “After coming back to India from the United States, my husband, Shyam Radhakrishnan and I wanted to start something. Since I couldn’t fulfil my dream of becoming a doctor and had to study engineering instead, I thought I should do something related to healthcare and that’s how Medall happened,” says the actress.

In Shwetha’s case, her restaurant was a venture waiting to happen. “In fact, those who know me for long are not surprised with my decision to open a restaurant. I am an absolute foodie. I am so very careful about what I eat that my cook always travels with me on my shoots. I also love hosting family and friends and often hold pyjama parties at home. That’s why a restaurant was the obvious choice when I thought about starting a venture,” says Shwetha. Shwe’s Delight [“I was called Shwe by my friends in modelling circuit”], which opened its doors last month, is a North Indian fine dining restaurant. “I wanted to give expatriate Malayalis in Dubai a different taste from the usual fare. We dish up a bit of Chinese food too,” she adds.

Being a celebrity helps, most of the time, especially to get publicity, say the leading ladies. For instance, Kaniha says she could bank upon her celebrity status to get corporate tie-ups. They also talk of brand value going up when a known face opens a venture. “There is a certain level of trust with potential customers because you are a known face,” explain Shwetha and Lena. “On the flipside, you are always under scrutiny. At times, I feel acting is much easier,” adds Shwetha. Kavya says it is not easy being the face of Laksyah. “I can’t go wrong with what I wear!” she adds, with a laugh.

Celeb status and a pretty face, though, is no guarantee for a successful business. All the actresses say that they put in a lot of hard work to get their businesses up and running. “The execution part was not easy, be it finding the right location, getting the interiors done, purchasing the machinery, appointing qualified staff, training them and even finalising the colour of the uniform. But I have become more confident now that we are opening a new branch in Kochi,” explains Lena. Kaniha, meanwhile, admits that she has learnt to be “more patient and be diplomatic.” Well played.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/cheap-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/****-formal-dresses
~
May 2023
HP Poet: Edmund Black
Age: 39 (almost)
Country: USA

Question 1: Welcome to the HP Spotlight, Edmund. Tell us about your background?

Edmund Black: "My real name is Merlin Edmund (Black) cause I believe in magic and besides, it matches my cool ;). I was born in Port Aux Prince, Haiti. I moved to the United States when I was 11 years old and I’ve been living in New Jersey ever since. Seems like here on Hello poetry I’m stuck on 34, like I'm frozen in time alongside error 502, but I’ll be 39 years young this year on May 6. But please don’t tell anyone ;) lol."


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Edmund Black: "I wrote my first poem (ever) here on HP called Caribbean love, back in 2018, and I have been a member since. I wrote that poem after I returned from a missionary trip back home in Haiti, after I witnessed so much poverty on such a small island. And I wanted to write about all the suffering, the poverty and the beauty. At first I was afraid, I was scared because I didn’t know how people would take to me. But there was a piece of me that wanted to come out, wanted to be free, and to learn, to help others find their own Joy, gratefulness, peace and humility? I started writing to encourage myself and many others. The truth forever remains that we're all brothers and sisters. I wanted to sprinkle some love and hope around the world, seasoned with a little bit of madness."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Edmund Black: "I guess every writer is inspired by different things, for me I get inspired by all the little things I experience on a daily basis. I get inspired by hatred, poverty, love, music, nature, grief, etc. I get inspired when I'm desperately searching for a life in a happier world. When I feel the desire to remind myself and others that we're all the same. Everybody has a little bit of the sun and moon in them. Darks and lights in them. Part earth and sea, wind and fire. We have a universe within ourselves. We all can shine in the midst of dark moments and we have got to remember that, no matter the weight."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Edmund Black: "Have you ever met someone that makes you happy and smile, just from being around them? They make you feel good just from their laughter. They make you feel like all the problems or negativity that you may be facing during your daily activities, means nothing. They make you realize that it’s okay to make mistakes and still find ways to make things better. This might sound insane, but that’s poetry to me. It's healing, it's cathartic, it brings out strength from within. Trust me, you can write about anything and still come out with a win. Poetry is an avenue that lets you be free while holding the memory of the world in the palm of its hands."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Edmund Black: "I think my answer is going to shock you, Carlo. I DO NOT HAVE A FAVORITE WRITER OR POET besides you guys here on HP. But If I had to pick one famous poet, if it’s a must it would have to be Jesus Christ. He was a brilliant poet who had his work of art on every mind and heart in the world. His expression, His poems, His delivery and the depth of His thoughts. The poems are so relatable and beautiful. His words are addictive. Every time I am a little bit depressed and in need of a lift upon high, He is the first and only one that always comes to mind. He’s my inspiration…… Without question."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Edmund Black: "I love spending time in nature with my family; creating art in the backyard whenever I get a chance. Weight lifting and bicycling are two of my favorite hobbies, and plus I'm a foodie so I'm very passionate about my cooking ;) especially fresh seafood, hmmm so so so good. And lastly, I have a great enjoyment in fixing old houses and turning them into a home for families to enjoy for years to come, for a small fee ;) to me it’s a form of art. It’s a busy lifestyle."


Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for allowing me to interview you, Edmund! I really enjoyed getting to know you better!”

Edmund Black: "Thank you so much Carlo and to everyone who has ever shown me love, support, encouragement, forgiveness, concern...at any point in my life. Your grace, compassion, and mercy does not go unnoticed. I love you all. Be gentle with each other my dear poet brothers and sisters. To all writers and poets, don’t boo yourself off the stage before anyone has a chance to see you shine. Keep dreaming and your visions alive because without us the world would be empty, sad and without a sound. Let’s create joy for hope and hope for humanity……I am all gratitude Carlo and family, thank you 🙏🏽"




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed getting to know Edmund a little bit better. I know I did. – Carlo C. Gomez (aka Mr. Timetable)

We will post Spotlight #4 in June!
~
Niharika Jun 2020
There was a boy Rudi,
He was a big foodie;
Even in his dreams,
He used to think about the
  cream;
Suppose this was the only his
duty??
Caro Jun 2016
Dark as night and in the mood for food,
Oh did I say food? I meant you
Isn't it the same?
I want to consume you, to move you around my plate,
I want to savor you,
Let your body fill my body and give me strength for days,

I'll know you on my palette,
My tongue will recognize,
The peculiar taste,
That is your face,
When its paired with a dark red wine.
Sru Nov 2020
Hey foodie!!!
O yummy cookie,
Never went for movie
Called the name pixie;
We both crazy maggie,
Absolutely, You my barbie...
will Aug 2020
i hate food
i love to eat and eat and eat
i never seemed to stop
chips, nuts, berries, and galore

i hate food
i love to chew and chew and chew
i always seem to be hungry
pasta, bread, eggs, and more
i hate food
i love to hate myself for it
but never seem to stop
bits, bites, mouthfuls, and shame
Brycical Mar 2014
For some, certain places
hold a rather mythic oeuvre
in our veins; they are seen as places of magic.

Maybe a cyclist couple
have spent most of their money
on traveling  the world for their blog,
their last stop is New York City
so that they may get pictures of themselves
at places like The Brooklyn Bridge, Lady Liberty
& that megalithic skyline reaching the clouds.
Or maybe a foodie from Wisconsin
just wants to try Famous Ben's Pizza on the West Side
because its New York ******' New York pizza.

Maybe a doe-eyed screenwriter skips
his flat square suburban town
to sell his words and soul to the sprawling sunny L.A
where dreams are made in pixels.

Maybe some New Age beaded wrist to ankle lady
spent her life savings to jump over the ocean
to visit the ancient pyramids built for a purpose
yet fully known.

Maybe a bearded dude
visits Easter Island to try and understand
the complexities of his ancestors while
soaking in the rich vastness of nature around.


Maybe I used to see places this way. Probably...


But in these places people live!
It's not mythology to them.

Maybe every night a homeless man prays
& begs for food on the late night A-train in NYC.

Maybe a middle-aged fading blonde couple
spend their time in L.A at a health food store
to recoup the savings they lost joining a cult way back when.

Maybe a Swedish teen  traverses the trash
and littered-burned streets of Giza everyday
on her way to work
hoping funny looks aren't shot her way
for the way she dresses
or shouted at by bearded Salafi men.

Maybe a rare species of bug is unknowingly stepped on
in Easter Island.

Today, i see magic in getting lost on the NYC subway.
I found magic mythology on the beaches of Dahab,
80 miles away from Cairo.
I see magic in the mythologies,
while others live it,
        the daily grind.

*It's all around if you know where to look.
John F McCullagh Dec 2012
I may have been the slowest child
to ever run in track and field
I was a foodie even then
with not the fastest set of wheels.

I still have the medal that I won
for finishing in second place.
awarded to our relay team
In a two team relay race

I was the anchor(aptly named)
they could have called me 'ball and chain'
The other three were none to spry
We were well matched those three and I.

By the time the baton reached my hand
My competitor neared the promised land
I set out full steam(for me)
as he crossed the line to victory.

I gamely tried to speed in haste
for what I knew was second place
and I was genuinely surprised
when they gave medals to us guys.

I never after won a race
nor finished either show or place.
I prize the medal that I got.
If I was a horse, they'd have me shot.
Christopher Feb 2014
I'm looking for a



a Reader

a Geek

a Foodie

a Lover


akin to the guilty pleasures in life


Dedicated
Honest
Free-Spirited


living a life composed of many passions


Hedonistic?
maybe
Creative?
positively
Adventurous?
constantly



I'm coming to find you
R Arora Mar 2017
I was exhausted of sitting in the car,
In traffic jams at noon.
Travelling a distance too far
In an attempt to reach soon.

Glad I was home when I expected,
I started telling my Mum about the day.
I continuously blabbered,
Not giving her any chance to say.

As I was done speaking,
She asked if I could come with her,
"Sorry, I can't", I  said after thinking,
Shopping isn't something that makes me feel better.

"It's the grocery to be bought", she said,
Hoping that I might budge ,
I denied again,
And so she struck a bargain:
"I was thinking we could have sweet buttermilk."
I heard without lifting my head,
and with a child-like grin, I began to trudge.

I can control my desires well,
But I am a foodie with a sweet tooth.
I'd be in heaven, I can surely tell,
If I have book, couch and food.

"Choose a shop before we are way past it,
It was fun today", she said, smiling.
Isn't this what we live for?
It is the time we spend, and not the lure.
I was unknowingly overcome with guilt,
And we reached home, while I was still thinking.
21 March, 2017
Maisie Jul 2020
Narrator 1: Sweet children of pure honesty, Hansel and Gretel
Narrator 2: Really aren’t nice ones, they’re weeds like stinging nettles
Narrator 1: And that evil little missus
Cooked that poor witch, and that does not distress us
Narrator 2: So here is our story
And perhaps, purposefully, it’s a little bit gory
Both: Of Hansel and Gretel,
The annoying children like stinging nettles…

Narrator 1: There was a family of four
Who lived in a house with a rotting floor
In the middle of the woods,
With no money for basic goods
Narrator 2: A little boy lived there, his name
was Hansel
He was always forcing his father to cancel
His trips to the village in effort of food
Which did no good
Narrator 1: Then there was his sister, her name was Gretel
Always mistaken for being gentle
Rather, though, she was a spoilt brat
Always scoffing any food and becoming fat
Narrator 2: Their father, desperately weak,
Told by his children he was a freak
Narrator 1: Married a woman, perfectly strict,
Who had perfect legs for a mean kick
Both: You must remember now, these children are brats,
And need to have their heads chopped off with an axe
Narrator 1: Of course as you would expect,
Their step-mother wanted their severed necks
She taught them well, and she tried hard,
But their minds always seemed afar
Narrator 2: One day, she had had enough
Sent them off into the woods, she felt rough
But she told herself, you to me
This had to be done to the banshees
Narrator 1: The children, chubby and rude
Were sent off into the wood
Narrator 2:After a while, Gretel moaned
Gretel: ‘Where is all the food?’
Narrator 2: she groaned
Narrator 1: Of course you see she was greedy
So didn’t care about the needy
Both: And…...****! Just like that
A gingerbread house appeared with a snap
Narrator 1: Gretel always wanted to boast
And she felt she was the foodie host
Narrator 2: Hansel ran forward, teeth sunk into the ginger
No idea of the injure
He was causing to the house
And the occupant; a little mouse
Narrator 1: The mouse came out, shaking with fear
And said to the boy
Mouse: “Now look ‘ere!
You have no right to come bargin’ in
I just finished decoratin’!”
Narrator 1: Gretel sniggered, and winked at her brother
Narrator 2: Something that would’ve scared off their mother
Both: The turned their bottoms to the mouse
And let rip a **** that blew her back to the house!
Now these atrocious children
Needed to learn a very good lesson
Narrator 1: The mouse scampered away and awoke the witch
Who for some strange reason loved to stitch
Narrator 2:The witch was kind, her name was Brooke,
As you can see she loved to cook
Narrator 1: She loved gingerbread, for her village was made of it
If anyone ate her houses then she would throw a fit
Both: These children were no exception,
And Brooke was a witch of deception
Narrator 1:She lay on the floor in a fit of temper
The mouse feared she could not help her
Narrator 2: Brooke got up and slowly grinned
Witch: ‘I’ve a plan, it’ll make them run out of wind!’
Narrator 2: She whispered carefully to the mouse
Witch: ‘Bring them in the house,
I’ll give them lots of food,
And teach those brats for being rude!’
Narrator 1: The two children continued to munch,
The mouse came out and said
Mouse: ‘Come in! Have some sweets for lunch!’
Narrator 2: As soon as they were in, the trap fell
Trapping young Hansel, but it was too small for Gretel
Witch: Nevermind,
We’ll make a maid out of the girl with a big behind!
Narrator 1: Gretel slaved around, but slowly began to eat the walls
The mouse knew this but only said,
Mouse: ‘The fools!’
Narrator 2: After a while Hansel also got big,
He, like Gretel, was such a pig
Both: The children simply got fatter and fatter
Whilst the witch continued making her batter
Narrator 1: One day Gretel awoke to the smell of delicious food,
And rolled over to find she couldn’t move!
Narrator 2: Hansel was in a similar position
But still the witch hadn’t completed her mission
Both: She brought the greedy children more food so sweet
Which Hansel and Gretel couldn’t help but eat
Narrator 1: The witch wandered down the steps and whispered to the mouse
Witch: ‘Quick! Evacuate the house!’
Narrator 1: The witch and the mouse ran far away,
knowing about the end of the children’s days
Narrator 2: The children munched on and on
But at one point on the beds where they lay upon,
Narrator 1: Gretel moaned,
Gretel: I’m so full I could pop!
Narrator 1: And pop she did! There was no stop
Narrator 2: Hansel followed not long after
Both: And that is their Happy Ever After
That is the true story of Hansel and Gretel
The incredibly annoying and greedy children like stinging nettles.
This is a script I wrote for drama project about twisted tales. For this I never truly liked Hansel and Gretel, it was disappointing that children who grew fat never got punished for being greedy. So i decided to change that ;)
Sienna Luna Jan 2017
After Hell and back

to hear your voice

all deep and gravely

on the other end

of the phone receiver

makes all the difference



When my belly's empty

and I'm about to collapse

Oh yeah, I already did!

I called you up

biting my lip

and you answered

on the second ring

enthusiastic about

some new job thing



I'm a foodie, I said

I noticed, you answered



I'm a girl with a BIG

appetite, who cares so much

about other people's well-being

that she burns out quicker than

a single sheet of paper

to a lighter's fine flame

when the going gets rough

her thin skin gets tough

what a shame!



After hell and back

there's no more of

the same



is there…?



What's left is but the ash

stuck to the bottom

of the bin in fine dust



and after hell has burnt me

to a crisp and worry seeps in

I try to not cry

but tears invade the corners

of my eyes

stinging and ringing

a fear so contrite



but if I avoid the things

that scare me

I'll never find freedom

and that's all my charred

feet want--release from

first time jitters--



and you're real



you're actually real



and that's the scariest part of all



it really is time now

to break down my wall
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2021
i've cooked plenty of curries in my life
(in the back of my mind there's this mainstream
narrative that comes to the fore
with buzz-words like: "cultural appropriation"...
so i can't cook a curry for myself
i need someone native of the "concept" of curry
to cook it for me? the use of cumin, coriander seeds...
star anise... cardamom pods is off-limits
for me? like donning a sombrero?
i hate acronyms but, in this instance i'll just
keep it short and shrimp-y i.e. w.t.f.?!)
but what i recently conjured up has become
a... revelation...
i know that the taste profile of some Asiatic
people: the Chinese love their dichotomy of
sweet & sour... as well as sweet & salty...
come to think of it: i like those profiles too:
salted caramel is the next big taboo topic?!
the first proper revelation came to me via...
refika's lavash & hammered beef recipe...
she's on youtube: it's so **** when a woman
as voluptuous as her knows how to cook...
plus the ol' raven hair: beyond that...
it's not that she knows how to cook:
i can trust her to cook...
    not that i was willing to make lavash from
raw goods... i can buy that...
the genius is instilled in the marinate...
what was it...
oh hell... my beard is itchy... i guess at the mere
thought of eating this dish...
sea salt, pepper, lots of peppercorns...
fresh garlic, fresh rosemary (thankfully i have
a garden and i have rosemary in it)
dried chillies (whole or flakes)
olive oil, white wine vinegar...
into the pestle & mortar...
the beef thinly sliced then marinating for
15 minutes at best: the vinegar tenderising
the meat quicker...
fried for 2 minutes or whatever time it takes
until you see the meat pouring out the most
hidden blot clots...
but beef & rosemary?! huh! who would have
thought... i certainly wouldn't have...
sure... LAMB & rosemary...
but beef?
oddly enough the meat works just as well
when topped with English cheddar...
you don't need a Turkish cheese...
but that's not even the end of the story...
of the lavash wrap...
it's the side dish...
the onions! slice the onions into crescent moons...
squeeze them to get the party going...
they must be red onions... some salt...
some more white wine vinegar & let them pickle
for a while... after the "while" add some
sumac (i also add some gochugaru chilli flakes...
for colour and tingling buzz)
SUMAC... topped off with some fresh parsley...
i could be writing about my escapades
in the brothel... but this is so much better...
what's ***? meat you can't eat...
at the end... it's meat you can't eat...
tease it, nibble it: but you're not going to eat it...
i very much like the ethereal nature
of cooking: it reminds me of the time i studied
chemistry in Edinburgh and conjured up
Esters from scratch...
Esters? oh, those scented compounds used
in the perfume industry...
yet today i came across an even bigger revelation...
Indian cuisine? done... Chinese... no problem...
the number of curries i made in my life...
eh... ha...
            hell: even the Hungarian goulash
for a massive potato "pancake"... garnished
with something sour... cabbage most likely...
or at least a coleslaw to off-set the smoky-paprika
taste...
green peppers a must...
of course you need some sprinkle of paprika
on the lavash wrap-up...
for colour: to "combat" the "insanity"
of cheese... & some extra pepper....
& rosemary...

well you can't exactly call a stew a curry
a sauce or jue... it's not  juice if it's a juce...
some "chew"...
esp. not in the Persian cuisine...
pity me at me at my self-wallowing in being
cosmopolitan on the outskirts...
i'll take one step into the night
and i'll be met with the resounding
presence of foxes...
i stopped being bothered about BWV 988
being just a cliché...
which it of course is...
so many pieces of classical music were once
beautiful...
now... in the gulag of the muzak...
they have become: morphed...
hardly stand-alone pieces of music...
moonlight sonata being the "other" over-emphasis
of needing to match-up to the demands
of / for mass consumption...

i hope this doesn't read like some foodie
blog... every time i want to replicate a recipe
i have to scroll down through so many
self-congratulatory deviances
from the narrative... none of these food blogs
seem stressed about giving out
what's needed:
the list of ingredients... eh... the methodology
doesn't really bother me...
i always miss the click-of-the-button
where i can simply get to the knitty-gritty...
there's always "some story"... some care to grasp
at some "authenticity":
it's almost like rereading Wittgenstein and
his focus on tautology!

come to think of it...
i watch out for tautologies...
like i watch out for metaphors and misnomers
and the... ahem "air quotes":
you can't stretch it as far as a metaphor?
then we'll be stretching it into a misnomer
status...

FESENJAN...
it's not like the Persians were not knocking
at "our" doors since... perhaps time immemorial...
what about that off-shoot tribe of Aryans:
the Sarmatians settling in the basin
of the Vistula?
funny... the concept of the Aryans...
that the Germans espoused it...
while... historically... never mind...

it's not a curry! it's a Persian stew...
i couldn't fathom it at first...
you make a walnut paste...
you toast 'em...
salt, pepper, sugar...
some of the usual suspects appear:
like cumin...
cinnamon...
    but then you get:
pomegranate molasses...
and fresh pomegranate seeds to garnish... with...
you also use fresh parsley instead of coriander...
only one tablespoon of tomato puree...
some ground almonds...
a pepper: which, along with a can of
chickpeas somehow, "somehow" managed
to disappear in the sauce...
garlic... sure... ginger? no...
onion... yes...

         i knew that Persian cuisine tickled
the sour fancies... but i never knew to what
extent! zest of a lemon: juice of a lemon...
no aubergine... this time...
turmeric: the peasant's version of saffron...
no difference... you can sprinkle some of that
anti-bleach magical dust and it works
just as well as a pinch of saffron...
but we're talking about the sauce...
cinnamon i already mentioned:
even though you can use acacia bark as
a substitute... pepper: already mentioned...
honey...
imagine my shock: no mention of a canned
lot of plum tomatoes...
******* roasted walnuts...
pomegranate molasses...
tomato puree...
ciućpajza...

this wasn't a curry... walnuts, though... when roasted?
ahem... "cultural appropriation"
of the Indians using cashews... & almonds
in their Korma... but walnuts?!
hey presto... some Turkish ingenuity combining
beef with rosemary!

is my native tongue a dodo lingo?
i'm just... wondering...
perhaps with the omnipresence of English
we'll all be savvy cosmopolitan nomads
by the end of this century...
i still manage to squeeze in a word:
or two... into my currency of the current:
lingo... but... the point
of: no one's speaking it beside me...
it's not a rhetorical question...
it's not even a question to begin with /
per se... it's a... vague obligation to:
some mustard seed metaphor sort of "power"...

youtube used to be such a fun website...
until the wallets started rummaging
hyping up...self-tutorial videos of make-up:
cover-up...
it used to be (this)... now it's... )this(...
sure... don't blame women...
it's not like Helen wasn't fabled for gearing up
a thousand ships...
Eva Braun wasn't Jewish... no no!
she wasn't... wi- do you really need the suffix
-nk?!

a grammar school playground filled with only
boys... hey... presto!
a girl comes in...
        what's going to happen?
the worst things... imaginable...
i'm giving birth to a shadow...
she's curious about giving birth to the gambit
of: more time... please...
i can be done with all of this spectacle in
a moment... she needs this misery to continue...
come to think of it...
i don't think the supposed
"forbidden" fruit of Eden did anything to Adam...
i think the fruit was a placebo...
he just towed his ******* ******* along
to experience the wind & the dangle...
whatever the metaphor of Moses implies...
ignorant of dinosaurs?!
seriously...
there's a talking spine of a t-rex...
there are the crocodiles of the Nile...
there's the imagining of a large fire-breathing lizard:
a dragon...
oh sure... the idea of dinosaurs wasn't somehow:
unconsciously implanted into us...
dragons precursor the discovery of dinosaur bones...
don't they?! don't they?!
imagining dragons precursor our discovery of
dinosaur bones!
no?! no?!
hell-oh... Pandora... how's tomorrow?
oh, right... can't say... just like today then?!

since the usual quest of bypassing the atypical
gatekeepers has been... quenched...
i'm no Tolstoy...
western democracy is worried about democracy
per se:
ooh... something terrible is bound to happen!
some terrible has been happening since
time immemorial...
it's only inflated:
in a society bound by glorifying sociopaths &
psychopaths...
the fakery escalates... so much of this culture
is bound to celebrate: hardly the opera singer...
hardly the poet... forever & until more
the Thespian... you know what happens to a culture
where only one art-form is given:
too much attention it deserves?
there was that period of time when
poetry was celebrated... when the western
letf-oids seemed rather... refreshing...
what now?

           let's go back to civilisation based on
the motto: we need carrots!
we need cabbage! we ******* need root vegetables...
oh forget the fruits...
that's not important for us...
winter is coming: a warm winter...
to borrow a phrase:
how can there be any hyperboreans:
what eternal sunshine?
i think of an eternal night...

               when i think of the wind:
there's not one... there are 8...
the wind from the north... south...
the wind from the north-east...
the wind from the south-west...
i count 8 winds... if there aren't 8
then we have a lemniscale...
a lazy: reclining 8... or a beta metaphor: B...
no?
the origins of numbers are all Hindu?!
sure... the letters too?
i can... rewrite the origins story
of numbers using only Greek or Roman letters...
with hindsight it doesn't punch-up
but... proud retardations of borrowed
cuisine aside...
L: 7
4: G
      mirrors! mirrors!
9: P
8: B
1: I(ota)
3: E
2: Z
5: S
6: b...

we didn't march across the *******
Siberian tundra
arriving at the Caucasian
peninsula for no ******* reason?!
we also managed to drag along the tribes
of Mongols... Turks... that settled in this grand...
continental funnel...

i learned "numbers" from Sanskrit...
i suppose the letters too?
like... ooh... i love how Hangul was
conjured...
   Sejong the ******* Solomon...
Abraham... St. Cyril...
   i always thought that Cyrillic script
was a cheap-*** variation of Greek...
sorry... it looks: looked:
will forever look: sort of shabby...

this time round: the devil didn't come round
with either fire or sulphur...
smoke & mirrors...
smoke & mirrors: Kowalski!
Trogon The birb Jan 2020
Look at how big that smile of yours,
as you un-box that pizza of happiness
I would trade all those **** body goals,
with a cute smile like a goddess

But please don't forget to share with me
when there's too many food at your side
You always neglect my existence
when hearing food delivery has arrived

Let me have one of those slices please
We know you can't finish them all alone
Hey, I ordered those fries and ice cream
Why am I only getting the ketchup and cone?
Saloni Jun 2014
Oh! Heart! Silently swallow your pain, don’t let it show again!

Eyes have swelled and weakened, don’t let them rain again!

I am sure hope stays nearby! He will buy you a smile,

Till then have a fake one! I am sure it will last some miles.



I know you won’t believe but what could have been done?

How in hell, in the midnight, could you bring up the sun?

And the night is not that dark, see how the stars shine?

So, sit here, shut your mouth, don’t let me hear you whine!



I am sure Optimism is busy, got her kids to drop to school,

But heart! She is our neighbor; she will come back soon,

And I know Hope is a loner, wanders from streets to streets,

But being the foodie that he is, he will come back to eat!

And love never dies, the eldest vampire we know,

With the constant need of blood you pump where else can he go?

So, what is it you fear, bud? They all are there with you,

It’s a bright sunny day out here, don’t sit back there in blue…
Bruce Levine Nov 2018
Fall is for color
Bounty and splendor
Spring is renewal
But fall toasts
The future

Nature’s own blossoming
In earth tones that
Shatter the rainbow
With rock solid
Treasure to last
The year

Harvest *****
October fests
Foodie’s delight
Magnificent moments
For taste buds
In sight

Fall holds a promise
Crisp air to breathe
That cleanses the lungs
And erases the lethargy
Of summer’s heat

Thanksgiving to all
Mother Nature raises
Her glass
Mulled cider and cinnamon
Roast turkey and corn
Remember the season
Of color and bounty
Remember fall
Throughout
The year
Allen Robinson Oct 2016
What makes my tongue
salivate for more
What flavors make my
knees weak and shaky
A closet foodie with
a need to break out
To share the experience
from appetizer to dessert,
from ambience to seating
The essence pulls us in
and overwhelms, yet we
remain steadfast to be
objective in our critique
At the onset of the bite
I connect to the SAVORY
sensation my taste buds
stimulate almost instantly
Over and over again I
consume until my
gluttonous conscience
shames me to my core
Ironically enough... I
would do it all over again.
My ode to the foodie in me
Darsh Parekh May 2020
Who’s she?
A bit moody
A bit foodie
But that’s fine,
Because she’s mine.

Who’s she?
Sometimes strong,
Sometimes wrong,
But that’s fine,
Because she’s mine.

Who’s she?
Always drives me crazy,
Always she’s lazy,
But that’s fine,
Because she’s mine.

Who’s she?
She always make me smile,
She always distracts me with her own style,
But that’s fine,
Because she’s mine.

Who’s she?
Always  hungry
Sometimes angry,
But that’s fine,
Because she’s mine.

Who’s she?
She makes my life complete,
She makes my heart beat,
But that’s fine,
Because she’s mine.
                -Darsh Parekh
John F McCullagh Dec 2016
I may have been the slowest child
to ever run in track and field
I was a foodie even then
with not the fastest set of wheels.

I still have the medal that I won
for finishing in second place.
awarded to our relay team
In a two team relay race

I was the anchor(aptly named)
they could have called me 'ball and chain'
The other three were none to spry
We were well matched those three and I.

By the time the baton reached my hand
My competitor neared the promised land
I set out full steam(for me)
as he crossed the line to victory.

I gamely tried to speed in haste
for what I knew was second place
and I was genuinely surprised
when they gave medals to us guys.

I never after won a race
nor finished either show or place.
I prize the medal that I got.
If I was a horse, they'd have me shot.
c.y.o. track and field true story
I can dream for my own sake
Of strawberries and cream
Of a rich fruit cake
of all the things I could bake
But think of the figure
Because it’s getting bigger
The chocolate pud
Is not so good
As I am prone
To put on a stone!
Miranda May 2020
I am from unrequited love
The kind of love that breaks hearts and shatters souls
I am from depression and anxiety
From anxiety attacks and depressive episodes lasting months at a time
To the suffocation of not being able to cry because you’re being told you’re dramatic
I am from self hatred, lack of self confidence and bullying
The aftermath of a divorce, the remnants of past lovers and dust of old memories
I am from the box of photos in the attic you dare not touch of a love you both regret and appreciate
The emotion wrenching violin crescendos you hear in a sad movie to the soft, high tones of a piano
I am from autumn leaves, hot cocoa and corn stalks in a field
From the color blue, which symbolizes both tranquility and sadness
The double standards of siblings and the constant need of perfection
I am from trauma and an array of abuse
From being screamed at for every little thing to feeling neglected
The perfectionistic habits I formed were far out of my control
The one thing I wanted became so far from my thoughts
I am from three brothers and crazy household
From playing in the yard to planting gardens
To playing nurse on everyone’s injuries
From the trumpet vines that weaved their way in and out of the fence in the back so artistically
I am from wearing makeup to hide my insecurities to covering up my body
Wearing loose clothes so no one saw my figure
From staring in my mirror and pointing every single imperfection out for hours on end before a shower
To ignoring the mirror because I knew what was there and I was tired of seeing no change
I am from culture shock
From a small town to a larger one, a practical city
What seemed normal to others was like New York City to me
I am from both daddy issues and mommy issues
From the lack of a mother to the practical absence of a father
From bottle clinks to aluminum cans everywhere
The scent of cheap beer, liquor and cigarettes
I am from being suffocated by society’s standards of women
From picking and choosing what to believe in
To being in constant fear of culturally appropriating when all I wanted to do was appreciate it
I am from being told to lose weight to a compulsive eating habit
Eating like I wouldn’t eat again since I was constantly hungry
Hunger and I became close friends in an eerie manner
I am from “you look good slim” to crying when I saw my weight on the scale
From googling how to fast and drinking nothing but water all day long
To becoming weak and shaky from my inconsistent eating habits
Battling myself for being both a foodie but wanting to lose weight so I could be seen as pretty
Being underappreciated by men since I didn’t receive attention from my father
I am from alcoholism
Borne from trying to salvage an already toxic marriage
Things being thrown, holes in the wall and screaming
Slurring became my second language even though I hated to admit it
From seeing my life flash in front of my eyes to having hands wrapped around my neck
Being hit made me fear hands and affection for many years
I am from fearing the slight change in someone’s tone of voice, tone of a message and someone becoming angry at any second
From volatile environment to lack of stability
Red and blue lights flashing in my windowpane to watching the rain fall down the glass
I am from manipulation and being told everything is my fault
One of the reasons I apologize so much
From wanting to commit suicide but never following through due to the fear of breaking people apart and passing on my sadness to others
The bleak interior of a mental hospital as a fourth grader to clutching a stuffed animal with all my might
From being told I’ll never amount to anything, i’ll become a teen mom and how dumb I am
To graduating high school with a 3.7 GPA and no children on my hip
Childhood curiosities led to a blooming art passion
The one thing that helped me from everything
I am from using art as a coping mechanism
Painting every paint stroke with every emotion
Molding clay, concentrating solely on that
Plasma cutting a heart out of an oil barrel
To sketching my emotions how I envisioned them internally
I am from bad memories fading in the wind like dandelion seeds
The wishes of pain going away to seeking love
I am from many lessons in life
From becoming true to myself to learning that not everyone is a true friends
That friends don’t always stay in your life forever even if you want them to
Promises aren’t meant to be broken
From learning my worth is not in pleasing men sexually
I am from seeking attention in the wrong places
Forming a drug habit to help me feel happy
Not everyone will be your fan to people will hate you when you’re doing good
Drinking my troubles away and sleeping all day long
Hiding in my bed all day and barely eating
I am from heartbreak
From not taking a shower for weeks on end, not taking care of myself and just staring into my phone screen
Hiding my emotions with an “i’m fine” to barely anyone noticing me breaking
Quivering vocal cords as I confess my sadness to someone, breaking down
I witness myself crumpling into a ball on the floor, screaming for the thoughts to stop
I am from college books to fixing cars
From trying my best and realizing it wasn’t for me
I am from seeking the approval of others, no matter how much it broke me
From seeing I was a broken piece of pottery
Thinking I was unfixable and the damage was beyond human fathomability
But what I am from made me into who I am
I am a beautiful Kintsugi ceramic piece
My cracks shine with gold
Making something broken into something beautiful
Simon Soane Dec 2019
On a Wednesday morn at work I was after food,
so I said to my manager, "I'm off for a break dude!"
I walked out of the employment building and thought, "I can't wait to eat,
my stomach's proper churning and my belly wants a treat."
I bounded to the shop
with the I'm starving hop.
When I got there I grabbed some peanut butter, crisps and bread
and glistened with the fact that I was soon to be fed,
I went to the woman at the counter and remarked, "Hi! Hope you're well, can I have this please?"
She replied, "Course you can!" I felt my famish ease.
She rang it all through and commented, "That will be £3.63!"
I went, "Sweet, just let me get the fee!"
But when I reached in my satchel for my wallet I did a ohhh ****, ****, ****,
I've ******* left it in work!
So I said to the woman, "Oh ****, I've not got the moolah on me (I felt a right ****),
can you just put it to one side and I'll be back in a bit?"
She riposted, "Ahh, don't worry about it, for your forgetfullness I'll cater,
just take the goods and bring the cash in later!"
I was like, "Are you sure? Wow, that's real swell,
awesome awesome, to you all of well!"
I left Sainsburys feeling the goodness in life flow,
and then I spotted this lovely crow!
It was on top of a discarded receptacle that once held a Mac D's
and the remnants of the scoff it was trying to seize,
I got my phone out and went, "Ohh, this ace bird attempting in it's gob sustenance to flick
will make a really mint pic!",
but it was a windy time and the paper holder went out of the crow's reach,
from her grasp and blew up the street.
I felt crestfallen for the winged thing, my being started to lag,
until I remembered what I had in my bag!
I tore open the bread and broke it into tiny parts and said, "Here you go mate, I know that other foodie you did miss
but have some of this!"
And then it occured to me that if someone hadn't gave me the stuff I wouldn't have been able to do that;
I felt the warm in the universe, I heard a joyful clap,
because kindness reciprocates wherever it is found,
from person to person to bird, from the top to the ground,
and when I looked back and watched the crow nibble on the bread before it flew away,
I realised this was turning into a wonderful beautiful day!
(P.S. I went back and paid the woman a hour later!)
Ammar Younas Nov 2018
Care and some tears of joy
Add hope and shake someday
Trust, kindness and patience 
Mix them and bake someday
She is a big foodie
Gift her this cake someday
My dreams
It seems
Can be
Wierd and wonderful
Crazy but cool
All mixed up
As a general rule

I dream of unfinished buildings
Crazy hotels
Parking the car
Somewhere bizarre
going to a restaurant with no food
As a foodie that's not so good

but best of all is when I dream
of lying on a beach
on a private island
Eating ice cream!
Sunning myself and smiling!
Wags her tail to and fro
Ever and ever, she sees me home.
She tries to stand tall and high
Reaching shoulder sans, a sigh!

She’s my alarm clock,
A paw to the face, a wakeup call
Running to me for every call,
jumps and pulls for a treat!

When I leave, she gives tiny barks,
But at the gate? A lion with sparks!
A fierce protector of her land,
yet fearful of ants and cats….!!

Foodie time, is fun and drama
Circles around with glance, for every view
Sniffs once, sniffs twice, maybe three,
like.. “Is this food good enough for me”!

More concerned with the neighbor’s affairs,
Peeking over walls with curious stares.
the window glass—her vanity’s friend,
Checking her face, again and again.!

Some days she’s a lady,
paws crossed, elegant and graceful,
Other times, belly up, viewable from space.
for any mischief, if caught red-handed
Scoots off to her kennel—
Lay as innocence adorned
door and eyes closed!!

Rocky, the diva, the daredevil too,
Every day with her is something new.
From strangers to ants, she's on patrol ..
Beware…. You will laugh and roll  !!

— The End —