Poetry Blogs (cooking)
The French are really rather rude
When talking about British food.
They cannot help but be quite mean
When it comes to tasting our cuisine.
They mock our beef with roasted spuds,
Our gravy soaking Yorkshire puds:
Swear vinegar on fish and chips
Would never make it past their lips
They claim the British high cream tea
Can’t match French haute pattiserie
Saturday 25th August 2018 9:17 am
In the morning
make sure I calculate
Flat packet grains compress
into calibrated measure,
To be levelled
With milk added to twice the degree,
Placed in microwave,
A minute of vibrational rotation.
Returned for half the spell of time.
Seed topping on the milky mass,
Monday 18th April 2016 7:21 pm
His name is Jeff. He’s a chef.
How can you tell? By his trousers of course.
When he puts on those checky trousers he’s no longer just Jeff,
But, Jeffry, like his Mam used to scream, making herself hoarse
At his idleness, lethargy, laziness, now all in the past
Since a chef he’s become, even though it’s self-classed.
Doesn’t wear one of them tall ‘ats though.
He tried on...
Friday 13th February 2015 3:02 pm