What do you mean no broccoli tonight?
I want my green trees now!
I am not happy and will cause a row.
My blanket, I will fight.
Oh, give me my vegetable.
Before I cause more ruckus.
Why do still eat at the table?
Now my tail has a chuckle.
It is laughing at me.
I must now chase.
Broccoli has lost my plea.
Only tail has my need.
In kitchen mom teaching me how to make fettuccine Alfredo
She fills the sauce pan up with water
Says: “We have to wait till it boils.
Don’t want crunchy pasta.”
As she turns knob to high on stove
In meantime she gets sauce ingredients ready
Places skillet on stove
Turn another knob to medium and adds butter
She minces garlic to get ready after butter melts
Butters melts; garlic is added
I smell it start to fragment
She pours in heavy cream
Water begins to boil
Mom adds dry fettuccine to pot stirring
Back to skillet
Stirs sauce until it is reduced in size
I watch as half of Parmesan cheese is whisked in
Combining it until all is smooth and cheese melted
Pasta is done; mom ladles some pasta water
Mom drains pasta; adds pasta to sauce
Tossing it and cover each area
She Adds more cheese; tosses it again
She checks the meals with wooden spoons
Says sauce needs to thin just bit
Adds a little bit of water
Tests it again and says that is perfect.
Mom says when done: “Always test pasta
Make sure it is Al dente; not to firm
Or and don’t want pasta musshy.”
That’s what learned, to always check pasta.
April 14th Prompt: Write a narrative poem about learning to cook something from someone. Include a quote that the person said about cooking that has wider implications.
I come down stairs to smell of pancakes
Mom in kitchen spooning out mixture
On hot griddle already laden with pancakes
They bubble a little soaking up mixture liquid
They begin to harden mom flips them
You can hear a sizzle escape from them
I sit down in kitchen to wait till they’re done
Mom lifts them off hot on to plate
Brings over a stack for me
I butter and let syrup flow out onto them
I cut first bit; into mouth I savor my bite
They are mom’s famous Saturday morning pancakes
Best when I was growing up as a child
April 7th Prompt: What was your favorite breakfast when you were a child? Write a poem about the food, the place you ate it, and who cooked it.
Come back from walk
I go into kitchen to wait.
I wait and wait;
Human does not come in.
I come out of kitchen
I give human the look.
Please, feed the Shiba now!
Human shakes their head.
It’s not time to eat dinner.
Another two hours
They say until I eat.
I go back into kitchen.
Take water bowl from its place.
I spill water lifting it splashing
Everywhere in kitchen.
With bowl in mouth
I take back out to living room
To begin playing with it.
Showing you that I am hungry now.
Car door opens,
I catch a wiff of
Something that smells good.
Two boxes you place inside.
I eye you trying to tell
You to open boxes.
But you start car
Saying this is not for dogs.
I find out it’s pizza
When we get to grandma’s house.
You still don’t give me any,
As I look longingly at pizza.
You pull out my stuff pizza,
Saying this is your pizza.
But, I don’t want that one;
I want the really thing!
Dear chocolate, I can’t be without you.
Your sweetness surpasses other desserts.
I enjoy the dark, richness you offer;
Instead of the white variety.
I use to eat so much of you when young
But now I have cut back on how much I eat.
Hope you don’t mind;
But I try to eat a small piece every day.
When I’m on vacation I miss you.
I try to find ways to bring or buy a piece.
When I don’t eat you I miss the taste you have;
That smooth, bitter, creamy taste;
Which sends me over the edge.
When you enter my mouth
I close my eyes; savor all of you.
Chocolate, you and will always be with me
For that you are my treat so dear.