Apfelstrudel

Timeworn café in Berlin,

the parents of apfelstrudel.

Warm Christmastide notes of cinnamon, linger

and anticipation of plunging a fork

into crackling pastry,

splitting flaked almonds

revealing glistening gold

and the scent of late autumn.

 

Hedgerowild

Haws, hips and sloes

on heath and hillside.

Wine dark jewels

and crimson rosehips.

Dusty sloes pepper canal paths.

Bright orange berries hang on Rowan’s arm.

Magical woodland.

Heathland.

Berryland.

Wise Elderberries know their fate.

We celebrate

with hedgerow liqueur,

majestic jam

and jelly.

Yet,

behind a garland of green

a cluster of shiny blackberry eyes

blink.

 

Whisk in Love

Take one large life

and fill with four essential ingredients;

Love,

Food,

Shelter,

Education.

 

Firstly, heat oven to Gas Mark 88.

Use the Shelter as a base.

Sieve two grams of Education into the Life,

and cream, together, with the Shelter,

slowly,

over several decades.

 

Add Food, sparingly.

You don’t want the mixture to ooze over the top of the tin.

Food, which obviously depends on your climate,

MUST be locally sourced,

otherwise, the recipe won’t work.

 

Whisk in 7,867 grams of Love.

Make sure you get air into it,

and that it blends with the other ingredients.

This is crucial.

All ingredients are equally important.

(However, some think otherwise….)

 

Shake the mixture a few times on the table

to encourage any

large lumps of negativity

to come to the surface,

then immediately crush with your fingertips.

 

When mixture is complete

pour into a lined 5 foot human shaped tin

and bake for eighty years.

 

Test with a skewer to see if it’s cooked.

If it shouts in pain

it’s done.

Let it cool and decorate however the hell you want.

Go wild!

Serve warm with a coulis of Happy Sauce.

 

Chefantics

I am a starched white culinary creator

And I’m flipping crêpes….

 

Crêpes…

Suzette?

Savoury or sweet?

We always taste them.

A chef’s treat.

Crêpes.

Destined to delight

the most discerning customer,

who is always right.

Right?

 

But I’m not only a crêpe chef.

 

Wrist on overdrive

whisks up a frenzy

to perfect dill sauce

before the flaked fish fillet

grows cold.

Finish with a fence of jerseys,

doll’s house trees

and fresh parsley.

 

I pretend I am a giant chef

making raisin rain,

dropping dried grapes into a soft, talcumed nest.

A powdered cloud.

Wobbly saffron vitellus

congregate

on sweet golden sand.

Sheen of dayglo marg

dazzles.

 

Fingernails imprison cake mix.

 

Itchy nose remains unattended.

 

Magic mixture

glooped into clasped tin.

You’ll never be the same again.

It awaits

Aga transformation.

A cakeification.

 

Here comes

six separate orders for

the dreaded full English.

Ten different items on one plate.

Don’t overcook the eggs!

Must preserve yolk

for essential soldier dippage.

 

Breakfast at the Waldorf.

Egg’s Benedict.

Stock broker’s hangover cure…

Chef’s in a daze

making hookers of hollandaise.

The devil sauce de curdle

responsible

for waste,

if you’re in haste.

It’s all about the timing

A bit like rhyming!

 

Service over.

Pint of fizz

on breezy balcony.

Breathe…..

Bliss….

 

Starched whites now creased greys

splashed

with food paint.

Beetroot bled into crusted batter.

Fingerprints of cocoa.

Pips of tomato.

Hass avocado.

Ripe morello.

Remnant apron of art.

 

Chefs?

We’re flipping crêpes!

 

Comfort Food

So, let me hug you

with arms of freshly baked baguette.

 

Let me refresh you

with breaths of cool vinaigrette.

 

Let me seduce you

with eyes of tempting chocolate cake.

 

So, let me drench you

with tears of strawberry milkshake.