In summer months, I ponder oft
Cuisines that I adore the most.
Fair Italy's tomatoes soft
And salty, rich on garlic toast?
Or olives dripping brine, so fine
Adorned with mozzarella roast?
Yet South America's spice, so bright—
The nutty, toothsome pop of corn
That with a bean, and pepper's bite,
Will many happy plate adorn?
A tomatillo green, so keen
To make its cousin red, forlorn?
How could I choose when both are best
Depending on the harvest's cull?
Whichever type of plate I've messed
Most recently is all in all,
Because it's clear that both are dear!
All day could I this subject mull.
It matters not; I'll love them both
When golden sun is high and hot.
For winter, bring on stew and broth,
Those remedies when cold is caught.
But icy gale? The sting of hail?
These things, my favorite foods know not.
3 comments:
I am hungry now. This reminds me that I miss your cooking. And your writing. And you! How long has it been? Time does that. Hope you are well.
It's been years--and yes, too long. Want to meet and play somewhere halfway for each of us in August? And I'm touched that you missed my cooking... We always did share a love of great food! ; ) Except you started running and kept yours properly metabolized... : P
Mel, that would be great to meet. I will email you. And if you ever feel like driving to Oakland once Marcus is back in school, I can take you to Phipps during the week. I can take shorter lunches that week, so we can spend a couple hours there.
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