My father stands at the stove,

I remember him;

four burners fired up,

in control, hassle free,

exercising his cookery wisdom

for the dinner table.

All I have is his book -

precise, neatly inked recipes,

each page a culinary lesson-

A temptation to try,

or an invitation to fail?

Maybe I could souse a herring

and create ham baskets.

Would my slender attempts match up,

or would I hear the whisper

over my shoulder...

"Too much salt Sian

too much salt".