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Category: my recipes

“upon considering large radishes”- me‏

Photo on 2015-11-26 at 6.28 PM

outsized radishes (November 26, 2015)

_____________

upon considering large radishes

I wrote a letter to my love
and marketwards I dropped it,
a little urchin must’ve picked it up
and put it in hir pocket

red peppers there, potatoes, pears,
parsleys, persimmons, parsnips,
cauliflower, cabbage, carrots, celery,
broccoli, rosemary, thyme, and turnips

but the radishes

what big radishes you’ve got, I thought,
the better, I deemed, to adorn my salads,
some red, some pink, some cream, some white,
all primed for my discriminating palate

presented gingerly in leafy green,
sold in inorganic, incongruous thus, individual blue elastics,
a brand name, the merchant’s label,
a small but indestructible, and glaring, plastic

something, of course, outrageous a pound,
or gram, at the indifferent check-out counter,
which, however dogmatic, I invariably pay,
to avoid any indecorous, unpleasant encounter

whatever is under my belt, no one can take away,
I’ve preached, propounded, promoted, pronounced,
before every filet mignon I’ve enjoyed
which another might’ve dutifully renounced

later, slicing these rarities, positively Swiftian,
I thought, verily Brobdingnagian, enormous,
pinwheels on my variety of vivid vegetables,
golf balls on my artfully distributed lettuce

what are they doing, though, to our planet,
momentarily I wondered, however impotently, I’ll admit,
having long ago succumbed to proliferating produce misfits,
with the advent of broccolini and, gosh, multicoloured carrots

my salad, with roasted prawns, and an
oil and vinegar vinaigrette, was to die, incidentally,
though not a word from the urchin,
nor from my love, not, I suppose, unnaturally, neither unexpectedly

may all your vegetables be ever so amazing

Richard

 

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the flow (with a representative performance of Bach)

"The Kitchen"  - Pablo Picasso

The Kitchen (1948)

Pablo Picasso

________

having forgotten that I’d left a candle
in the kitchen, I thought, is that what
you’re going to strike me with,
Alzheimer’s

and then I thought, who’s you

certainly not some Creator with a
white beard and a vengeance, or
even, for that matter, without a
vengeance, even empathy, a
buddha, a guardian angel

no, “you” would be the order of
things, the flow

I spread my arms, and ceded to
it

to be one with the flow, I thought,
that’s the Force, there was no
getting around it

to be at one with the Force,
listen

then I remembered the chicken
drumsticks in the ginger cherry
sauce I’d left in the oven

which turned out nevertheless
perfect

Richard

psst:

for perfect coconut rice,
1 cup of coconut milk,
available in most high-end
food stores, one of water,
one of rice, of course, your
pick, bring to a boil, lower
heat, simmer covered for
45 minutes, an hour, or as
soon as you remember
you left it on the stove,
turn off heat, add a
tablespoon of butter, lime
juice

serve with chicken
drumsticks in ginger
cherry sauce

and, of course, wine

“Schubert at dinner” – me‏

"Schubert at the Piano, ll" -  Gustav Klimt

“Schubert at the Piano, ll” – Klimt (1899)

Gustav Klimt

_______

June has been too hot for words
here, therefore my hiatus, along
with other physical and emotional
tribulations

but someone sent me something
today that made me think I should
return to my literary preoccupations

I’ve been fussing about my kitchen
rather, making soups, biscuits,
muffins, learning about basic, and
trying out unusual, taste
considerations

coconut rice with lime, for instance,
perfect for seafood and summer
presentations

pan-roasted pork tenderloin in a
whisky, mustard preparation, for
one’s incontrovertible delectation

you need to sear the tenderloin in
oil first, salt and pepper of course,
turning to brown all indentations

then smear with a whipped up
mustard and butter blend, lower
heat, cover, listen to this Schubert,
meanwhile, revelation

one of several transcendental
sonatas he wrote before he died,
a too early death, considering his
sublime cultural donations

he was 30, too young to die, to
produce what would’ve surely
been otherworldly musical
creations

when the meat’s cooked, set it
aside, keep warm, loosely
covered, increase heat, add
diced shallots, soften for
several fragrant inhalations

add as much whisky as you
want, though too much, I
found, will defeat your taste
expectations, though not, of
course, your degree of
inebriation

bring to a boil, reduce to a glaze,
lower heat, add cream to the
mustard, butter, shallot, whisky
agglomeration

gently cook sauce till it clings
to a spoon, I add the pork then
to the pan to return it to my own
doneness specifications

with coconut rice, you’ll serve
an unadulterated celebration

with Schubert’s D894, whether
cooking or dining with it, an
utterly existential affirmation

have fun

Richard

psst: serve with wine