Rice is all one but they are many ways of cooking it.
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The Cooking Pot
our cooking pot is not made of porcelain
or silver or gold but it is made of the mud
of this earth
hardened by time and fire and too much
waiting
our patience consumed
our waiting had been too long about this cooking
pot, earthen
where we put all our dreams and cook them
like rice
porridge, all of our dreams
fired by the woods of our reminiscence
our longings our loneliness our daily concerns
our future wishes
and then when the time comes to open
and see and smell what rice porridge is
we say we like it we say we love it
only to be repulsed by this visitor in the house
'this is not cooking! This is not good! ' and he stares at us
and says, we need more fire, more wood, more time
to have the perfect porridge
i went out unable to stand this hunger
unable to see what this visitor says
it is our fault we allowed him in
we open our doors and windows and let him sleep in our room
as we lay on the floors and keep ourselves on the stairs.
'this is too much' i said.
'he must leave this house at once' i told you.
this is our pot. this is our porridge. this is our cooking.
and we must eat. we must love what we have.
'get out of my house' i said.
and then i am relieved from an opression.
i am happier now. My pot is earthen. Its bottom is sooty black.
i am blue. And i do not really mind.
This is my porridge. You may take it, if you like.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I don't like gourmet cooking or ""this"" cooking or ""that"" cooking. I like good cooking.
quote by James Beard
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A measuring jug is also vital when cooking rice, as this is always measured by volume rather than by weight.
quote by Delia Smith
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I sometimes think the chef end of cooking is not the real end of cooking. Cooking is all about homes and gardens, it doesn't happen in restaurants.
quote by Delia Smith
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MaMa's Cooking
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
It's an assortment of goodie things
Chocolate, pies and banana pudding
Enough food and that's Mama's cooking
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
Apron in hand and lasting impression I didn't want to miss
Everything seem perfect from beginning to end
Enough food and that's Mama's Cooking
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
Smiling faces and a gentle speech of o.k.
Noone knows how much the void I can't fill
Enough food and that Mama's Cooking
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
Being polite and sincere would carry the weight
Seemingly enough she has the greater plan
Enough food and that Mama's Cooking ahead
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
The napkins, plates and never-ending why didn't it last
Noone knows how much the void I can't fill
Enough food and that's Mama's Cooking again
Thinking of times I would say what's cooking everyday
Craving for the turkey and dressing pan
Not to admit, seemed a bit much
Enough Food and that's Mama's Cooking again
So nowadays, I look for the needle in the haystack
Wishing on the times, she would come back
It's been 10 years, since I said thoughs word's
Enough food and that Mama's blessing for us
Missing mom everyday becomes second-nature for me
Enough food, Enough love and One day she'll see
For know I'll take her spirits with me and others will speak
Enough food, Enough love and One day she'll see
poem by Natasha McGee
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The Day I Hate Rice
The day I hate rice
Is several rare day in a year
When I don't eat rice
I don't want to eat rice
I don't want to see it
Because I hate its taste
And I hate to think about it
If I have the day I hate rice
Then you'll know that I don't feel well
I'm bored of this procession
I want to run from this life
Because I begin to hate myself
...just a little while
And everything will be back to normal again
That's the meaning of
The day I hate rice
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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No Spice In My Rice
I still uneasily and unceasingly wonder
Why most females, beautiful and un-beautiful commit blunder
Whenever in the kitchen they cook
Not even after they might have visited the recipe book.
The lady I call my girl is just so lazy
Friends and well-wishers believe she's just a bit crazy
Since with all the available spice
She couldn't make decent rice.
Every of her meal is a coup
It's a pity; she couldn't make the cheapest soup
And to cover up her unpalatable blunder
She always place the blame on another.
So, always with a gentle and humble heart
I plead with her to step up her cooking art
That a dark, probably white beautiful cooking ace
Might not out of carelessness take her rightful place.
poem by Olajide Ajibola
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Inspired by Issa - your rice field, my rice field
your rice field, my rice field
the road between that leads
to our dreams in tokyo
your rice field, my rice field
the road between that leads
to our sons in tokyo
inspired
your rice field
my rice field
the same green
-Issa,1815
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Cooking
I want her
To be
Blemish free
So I don't
Want her
To learn
Cooking…
For the fear
Of getting
Burned or scalded.
But I have to
Teach her
Cooking…
So that she
Becomes
Self-reliant and
Society doesn't
Disdain her for
Poor cooking…
She is able to
Lead a life
Blemish free.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Varied Menu
Chicken and rice.
Fish and rice.
Rice and chicken.
Rice and fish.
Varied menu - 'ish!
Nice jungle place.
There's plenty of space.
Fresh clean air
But that dietary pair,
Fish or chicken
.....Not again!
So more trekking with a frown
Back to Georgetown.....
poem by George BernardBloodyShaw
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And Then Die...
there are so many ways
to pretend that life is alright
opening a glass door
gently closing it with a whistle
getting to church, shun revenge,
kneel and pray in silence
coming home with a song
and play ping-pong
cooking pork and letting all that aroma
fly like sparrows to the roofs of the neighbors
getting a ticket for an orchestra
or watch classical ballet with mama
or traveling on a spree
taking a tour to another country
there are so many ways to be happy
so many ways to waste time and money
post pictures in facebook, and chat
displaying the smile of the big cat
so many ways, so many ways
to be like everyone on those days,
to become everybody else on arrays
on some nights you are wondering
how you have been too convincing?
and then you give your honest cry
let go some tears, and then die.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Request To The Dead
I offer this water to you,
my father, grandfather and great grandfather,
and to you, soldiers and generals
who fought for us and who fought against us
and who were killed by this war.
I stand here, on this battlefield,
and give this water and this rice to you—
you must be hungry and thirsty.
Ask for nothing
other than water and rice,
don't add to the long list
of things I was not able to give;
be content with this water and this rice
and return
to wherever you came from.
Consider this: the years
I have spent with you were many;
and this: it will not be long
before I join you wherever you sojourn.
Had I possessed things
other than this water and this rice,
would I have denied them to you
and asked you to return ?
Whatever I have
other than this water and this rice
are surely not appropriate offerings
for departed souls.
True, I traverse everyday of my life
with this baggage of witheld things,
but whenever I look at them
I disintegrate and cry out
with a voice that rends
the heavens
and the underworld.
Tears fill my eyes
when I make this offering
of water and rice.
I know, when my turn comes,
I shall have neither.
Look, the sun has almost set.
Now, go back to wherever you came from
with the little water and the little rice I gave you.
Look, I myself do not have
either any water or any rice.
Look, I have nothing except the few things
I didn't give
and kept with myself.
[Translated by the poet]
poem by Ramakanta Rath
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The Cook: A Tribute To Bibhu Padhi
The cook knows
that his shadow
burns in the fire.
Turmeric fragrance drives
hungry crocodiles away
from the greenroom.
While cooking himself
the cook discovers
that each fire has its own inscription.
You know how profound
the fire is, how much
it demands from life.
Cooking is self-cooking,
discovery of fire-roses
getting wiser in the soul of a bird.
poem by Rudra Kinshuk
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I like health-conscious cooking, but growing up in the South, I do love southern cooking; southern France, southern Italy, southern Spain. I love southern cooking.
quote by Clarence Clemons
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In Your Own Ways
You are smart in your own ways
you are lovely in your own ways
you are beautiful in your own ways
You smile in your own ways
So crazy in your own ways
The madness of your own ways
such mysterious in your own ways
Those eyes of your own ways
You inspire me in your own ways
You talk in you own ways
you love me in your own ways
You suprise me in your own ways
Your kindness of its own kind
Your love of its own loveliness
your touch of its own comfort
And your kisses of its own sweetness
There is nothing so much worth to
treasure in my own ways than the
sweet memories of your own ways
Your life in your own ways
changes mine in its own way
God must have taken His own time
for sush a creation of its own kind
With everything in its own way
I must live your way.
poem by Moffat Mbuzi
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I'm going to keep on dealing with the supernatural in a lot of ways.
I get quite lazy about cooking because when I come back from work it is the last thing I want to do, really is spend loads of time cooking.
quote by Prince William
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I have a cooking show that's coming on that I did in Albany. It will be on The Cooking Channel.
quote by Dom DeLuise
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Duct Tape World
rice and beans,
in the slow pot...
morning hangs,
duct tape lives
in the balance....
eyes wide open,
looking both ways...
grab a smoke,
and a shovel....
join in!
wiping last night's love
from the corner of the eyes,
or maybe just memory,
and an empty chair....
long autumn day
on the path to deliverence....
rice and beans,
in a duct tape world!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Whether one eats a cat or not is a personal choice, and I don't want to sway anyone one way or another. But if you do, there is one obvious cooking tip: Always remember to remove the bell from the cat's collar before cooking.
quote by Mike Royko
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