Even if a chef cooks just a fly, he would keep the breast for himself.
Related quotes
Too Many Cooks In The Kitchen
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Theres too many minds on the job
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Everybody wants a piece of the action
Cooking the books and getting their fractions wrong
What we need is law and order
Everybody knows
Cant have chiefs without the injuns
Stepping on their toes
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Theres too many daps in the pie
Theres too many cooks in the kitchen
Everybody needs a place in the rat race
Playing games of power, its only a cat chase
Too many too many too many etc.
Too many cooks in the kitchen
[by the colonel]
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Dish (cuisine) that talks
I am a dish that talks
and usually i want the chef
to do his stuff my way
wishing this, wishing that
hoping to be the next best dish
to top the restaurant list
as the chef sprinkles
his spices and salt onto me
i diffident would complain of
the excesses, the overindulgent
use of veggies and mutton
or mollusks, mustard
vinegar and pepper
and even the overheating,
charbroiled, stir fried
steam cooked or stewed
i want it my way giving
little regard to the chef's expertise
for fear of becoming an
offensive blandness on
the tongues of the masters
over enthusiastic over
what would turn out of me
only when my fragrance
spreads over the table
to trigger that salivating
nerves in mouths that
the buddha himself would
jump over the wall to
have me in his belly that
i realise the chef is correct
he is cooking me and he knows
how best i should be served
that exquisiteness that could only
result from an original recipe
the chef himself knows best
how he should turn out his creation
i take the opportunity to ask him
what he finds most in the way
as he tries to realise his dream of me
and he says 'Your load of bland ego
with the toughness of a three year old chicken.'
'It takes such a long time to just
boil them down to edible portions.'
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
From Seats to Feet
A style that brings the people,
From seats to feet...
Is something that isn't easily done.
Especially if more than a few are pleased.
This is a skill of a master,
Unmasked.
And more than any other,
Who has crafted a task.
And it...
Takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
It takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
Yes it,
Takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
To whip a cake to taste takes more than a...
Shake and bake!
A style that brings the people,
From seats to feet...
Is something that isn't easily done.
This is a skill of a master,
Unmasked.
And more than any other,
Who has crafted a task.
And it...
Takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
It takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
Yes it,
Takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
To whip a cake to taste takes more than a...
Shake and bake!
No need to ask a master what is the task.
When people move from seats to feet,
They've been razz-a-ma-tazzed.
And it...
Takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
It takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
Yes it,
Takes a chef to know just how to bake a cake.
To whip a cake to taste takes more than a...
Shake and bake!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
He Prefers Pears
Apples may be the fruit of choice.
But the chef says he prefers pears in his kitchen.
'Are you ready to order?
Or would you rather find a more suitable view?
The chef wouldn't mind at all!
Afterall...
How did you know we were here?
Someone made to you
Our menu clear!
If not by taste...
Certainly by a choice that was voiced?
Quality here is our adventure.
With a hint of heat to leave you moist! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Girls best friend.
This Cocker spaniel rules the roost
She takes no commands unless her interests it suits
Prawn snacks, chicken dinners
Controlling this mistress is a winner
She goggle eyes the chef as he prepares his banquet
At squiggly icing she shows no interest
Her belly has a place for the roast
The very thing of which the chef continually boasts
Slinking under the table, she surfaces beside
Now there’s nothing else under which to hide
A deft lunge, teeth take hold
She’s not to think `hot or cold?
Amid clatter, there’s also some heavy`
And now she on the retreat and covered in gravy
In his fury, chef has found a meat cleaver
Sanity returns, that wouldn’t clever
`how am I to feed them? Heaven, give me fate
An unflustered owner rescues her pooch, she orders `Let them eat cake`!
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The White Snow
The angels the angels in the sky
One’s dressed as an officer
One’s dressed as a chef today
And the others sing
Fine sky-coloured officer
Sweet Spring when Christmas is long gone
Will deck you with a lovely sun
A lovely sun
The chef plucks geese
Ah! Snowfalls hiss
Fall and how I miss
My beloved in my arms
poem by Guillaume Apollinaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Animal Rights (A Restaurant Sold Fried Fish Cruelly)
In Taiwan, there was a restaurant,
sale promotion gimmick of which was very abhorrent.
It was a smoky fried fish,
a spicy and good -smelled dish.
There was a glass fish pond,
swimming in it were fish...big, fat and long.
Beside it was a fish net,
by which the chef would catch.
Then he quickly removed the scale with a knife,
and on the body he cut and sprinkled with salt and spice,
while the fish was still alive.
Then with wet towel he grabbed the fish head,
while the gill huffing and puffing to catch the breath.
Into the sizzling hot oil, the body was slowly dipped,
which in painful agony, flapped and flipped.
The fish struggled in a desperate attempt,
causing the hot oil to splash,
onto the chef's hand,
making him cry in pain as if the world was going to end.
Before the fried fish was going to be served,
he put into the mouth of it the lighted cigarette,
an act so sickening,
horrifying and disgusting.
Then the Animal Rights Group lodged a strong protest.
The chef was afraid his business got into the red.
removed that dish from the list of menu.
He was almost legally sued,
making his mood get into the blue.
The chef sells the fish in a way so cruel and selfish,
to the animals he shows pity, not a little bit.
No Butter?
No Butter? (when a country practice monopoly)
“Butter, the chef said, I can’t fry a snitzel without butter? If I use margarine
it gets too salty and tastes like whale, if I use olive oil, it gets a Portuguese
flavour, a snitzel is Austrian. How can you fry an egg without using butter,
one loses the taste of clover and rural idyll, farm yards and chickens looking
for worms? ” ” Sorry the restaurant manager said, but we have no butter,
you gotta use margarine and anyway the guests are not chefs they will not
notice the difference.”The chef looked aghast, put down his ladle and said:
“You can’t mean that, has all my work comes to nothing? ” Took off his apron,
had tears in his eyes, ready to walk out into the cold night and not return.
“Hang on the manager said, without you I can’t run this place, it is the caring
way you prepare food that our guests like you they know there is a butter
shortage, but they don’t mind as long as they now you are the chef.”
Mollified the cook took his apron back on lifted his ladle and said, “Ok, but
see if you can get some butter even if you have to buy it from the Danes.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
First Encounter - World Top Cook Chef Wan
Chef Wan
trying so hard to make
himself sizzle
It was when he was picked to host a celebrity show on TV9 in Malaysia when I met Chef Wan. The man tried very hard to show his celebrity status, citing how busy he was, flying around the world, meeting famous personalities. He tried very hard to create a good impression of himself among the Press members like how he cooked his cuisines, adding this and that so that they sizzle.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
~~~The Chef~~~
Saucy as the tang of Chili...
...Warmed as gingers heated groans-
Taste delight of Curry to the palate...
...Sweet as Honey Bees, to their drones...
Sirens scented journey-
Into aroma's of London Town...
Satisfied a billowing hunger...
Placed a smile and erased a frown...
Courted with Heavenly Manna-
Ushered in, by taste buds sweet...
Raised and baked in sheer splendour-
Temperature of ovens complete!
In the kitchen of attractions wonder-
Sizzles a Chef So Supreme...
Seasoned and hand crafted taste delight
He's todays: 'Cream De La Cream'
Ordinary cook, no never? !
Naturally adept at La Cuisine...
Evermore shall he create...
Succulent, saucy, dreams...
Watch: Take Home Chef
TLC, Weekdays
4: 00 P.M. Eastern
Dedicated to:
Chef: Curtis Stone
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Vanilla Sky
The chef prepares a special menu for your delight, oh my
Tonight you fly so high up in the vanilla sky
Unbearable or great
You gotta love every hour, you must appreciate
This is your time
This is your day
Youve got it all
Dont blow it away
The chef prepares a special menu for your delight, oh my
Tonight you fly so high up in the vanilla sky
Melted tinbeads cast your fortune in a glass of wine
Snail or fish, balloon or dolphin, see yourself shine
This is your time
This is your day
Youve got it all
Dont blow it away
The chef prepares a special menu for your delight, oh my
Tonight you fly so high up in the vanilla sky
In the vanilla, in the vanilla, in the vanilla sky
In the vanilla, in the vanilla, in the vanilla sky
In the vanilla sky
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I Cook
I eat more than I cook, little eyes are on me,
As I weep and shudder furiously, full of bad habit.
The reality of a life beyond encases me still,
To stop this, tragedy appears to mock and arrive
At our doorstep. The door is a forceful entrance
Into the brilliance of the universe, the gates remind.
I have eaten all this while, food to mock,
As the lipids stretch my body, with proteins and salts.
These minerals are what cooks are made of,
Cooks remind me of worlds and foods.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Receipe To Cook The Organ Meats!
Organ meats are laced and tasty,
let us make the dishes, not the pastry,
Cooking of brain, lungs, heart,
Liver, intestine and kidneys,
Soak them in wine for years,
Marinate them in fizzy beer,
Baking is too hot,
So we opt for smoke,
Smoke them throughout,
the Day and night,
Even in between,
Many the numbers,
Faster the organs get smoked,
When the eyes and nose water,
Use the mask and filters,
Weeds can be added,
For a quick fix and flavor,
When the sputum is thickened,
With the bending cough,
When the legs are swollen,
With tiring limps and thoughts,
We can go to the hospitals,
To make sure,
Whether we have cooked proper?
Once the certificate is issued,
That we are the chief chef of our body,
With perfectly imperfect organs,
We can stop marinating and smoking,
As the organs can mature on themselves,
and we can be displayed sooner or later,
to show our relatives and friends,
that we are the great cooks.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Returning food
(This is a fictional poem)
You keep sending your food back because you aren't satisfied.
If you send it back just once more, we are going to step outside.
You say that my food stinks but you don't realize that I'm a great chef.
My meals have caused food poisoning but they've caused no deaths.
You said that your bacon was burned and your eggs were runny.
I'm going to kick you in the crotch and you won't think it's funny.
You keep complaining about your meals, nobody likes a whiner.
You say that I cook worse than that chef who owned Mel's diner.
I'm getting pissed because of the meals that you return.
I hold the worlds record for food that causes heartburn.
poem by Randy Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Check, Please!
Those who believe,
A quality obtained...
Can be kept and yet replace,
Those who initiated that quality to please...
In the first place.
With a keeping of the same taste expected,
Fool only themselves.
It takes much more than a replacement to restore,
That which has been established...
Patrons served came to adore.
And the ones who ignore this,
Know very little about 'their' business!
But a lesson learned that is earned...
Eventually teaches.
'Excuse me...
But,
Is your chef on vacation? '
The one we admired for his presentation? '
~No we've replaced that chef.
We could not meet his demands or expectations!
And frankly...
His arrogance we could no longer accept.
We paid him his worth.~
'I see.
May we have our checks, please? '
~Would you like to select something else from the menu? ~
'Why?
Would that change the ambiance?
You've already destroyed that,
By taking our preferences for granted.
Check, please! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Nibbles Abandoned On Picked Over Plates
Do people honestly care who initiated their ability,
To continue eating at a feast?
Since some who have come to munch,
Have desires to have their selections chosen...
By placing them out in front,
To 'try' to duplicate what others obviously appreciate.
The only time people express concern,
Is when it is believed...
Fewer people are eating up all the selected treats.
And it is assumed one chef has been favored...
Because it seems as if this one chef,
Has secret recipes that teases a choice for many to eat.
And it is suspected there is a cheating...
To make those unbeatable delicious treats,
The ones preferred by those who eat them.
No matter what the grade of taste the others are given.
Or the nibbles abandoned on picked over plates,
Given undeserved ratings for being great although mediocre.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Micro And Macro Poetry Feast!
Poets are the cooks who concoct delicious poetry for all.
Break fast, lunch, tiffin and dinner are the meals of a day;
But there are also drinks, snacks and buffets for feasts.
So, zealous poets have taste for micro and macro poetry.
Pups, samosa or cutlet are Haiku, Tanka or cameo poems;
Sonnet, romantic, classic poetry are breakfast, lunch, dinner!
Modern poetry is snacks, big or small Mac at anytime of day!
Blank verse or free verse is the variety of cakes and breads!
Micro and macro poetry are the tiffin and grand dinner feasts
People enjoy everywhere in the world at anytime of the year!
Taste and style of the feast depends in the presentation of chef,
The master cook of poetry who decides the fete from start to end!
In the menu of literary feast poetry item overwhelms all others
By micro and macro forms in message and music to satisfy all!
poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
First of all, I can't really claim to be a great chef.
quote by Martin Yan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Never eat in a restaurant where the chef is thin.
I'm not a TV guy. I'm a restaurant chef and a businessman.
quote by Emeril Lagasse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!