Collected Verses On Cooking
1 To brew is to welcome Aurora
Who sets in to bless us prime
Coffee, tea all first global law
2 Battered are idli, dosa, vada, chutney
Mouth to stomach breaking the fast
For a choice light, just pongal simply
3 To lunch means a gourmet meals
Sweet and sour all curries to savor
Ofcourse with rice to doze on day-dreams
4 Tea time is cracking snack time
Frying's heavy albeit eating's light
Need a choice light, just brewing alone sublime
5 Boiling, baking, broiling, brewing, blending
Chopping, poaching, grilling, grinding, pressured
A day's roasted, toasted journey is cooking
6 Free time means vegetable-gtocery-buying
Selecting, bargaining should be of select quality
Dinner or supper, add to the leftover simple cooking
7 Tasty dishes, dirty vessels- cleaning starts
Machine or maid pain in the neck often
Patience punctured by irate sleepy syllables
8 Cooking is a day's long journey strenuous
Trucked burnt by smoky kitchen sweating
No way but yes as hunger recurs in cycles
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Related quotes
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
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gastronomy Then And Now
A hygeine-domain was ruling then
To breed our chilhood in austere cuisine..
Punishable by code of that domain
Being unwashed and as well eating out..
Inviting was ritual specials alone
Hotels, motels, mess-stalls all scarce
In scurrying selling snack sellers
In heterodox houses sparse
Extended all..family, cooking, compulsion
Enforced to a life gastronomical
Exempted women all from being 'outgoing'
Changed time, trend and the vendors..
Behind the dwindling evening shades
When the sun conceals himself
There comes a maestero-voice of a sale
Idiaappam, Chapathi, Godumaiputtu..
Else everything and accompanied curries..
When the curtain raised for the sun up
Meals, tiffin all cycling around busy
What though hygeine-domain fallen
What though dying is home-cooking
Life 's happy, obese in a necessity-domain
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Tell It As It Is
The approachable love of a girl,
The notable acts of a woman,
The excellent choice made when a man is in love;
But, add it to your credit when you do turn around.
To catch the bull in its prime and to ride ti to victory!
But the difference is clear between boys and men;
And, to use the correct utensils at all times is like,
The very difference between girls and women.
Eat like agentleman when it comes for love,
And try to butter up to do your best! !
For, you will be truly thrilled like Romeo and Juliet;
However, be very unique always and learn from the truth.
Try to detect the scent of any unclean products!
For, the journey of a thousand mile starts from one;
So, float your boat when it comes for love,
And, read out the noted signs and follow the rules as well.
It needs time and wisdom finding your perfect match,
For, the sea of human difference is always around us;
But, to hunt a primate means to become one!
So, roll your boat always and become perfect in love.
Believe in yourself always,
For, to love is more deeper than it meets the eyes! !
And like a wet shirt from a wet love;
But, you need your safety belt always to protect you.
Life is full of stories and nobody is above reproach,
But, try to tell it like it is and show it like it is as well!
The, you will eat it like it is when,
You are already deep in the ocean of love.
Appraochable and notable facts to hit the hole in one!
But, do show that you care about yourself and your lover;
For, the end justifies the means! !
And, try to make the difference at all times.
It's all about the right flavour of sweet love,
So, tell it like it is with the red rose of love;
And like cooking and eating in style,
For, true love is all that is needed in this life.
Bathing and dancing in style! !
With the red rose at hand as a gift;
But, tell it like it is to gain your health always!
For, a journey of a thousand mile starts from one.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Mr Curry Delight
Yum, yummy
O! My tummy
Mr. Curry Delight
Now I fight
For my right
Mouthwatering tasty dishes
Incredible vegetable species
O! Mr. Chef
Mr. Curry Delight
Yum, Yummy
Hear my tummy
Common hurry!
Or be sorry
Hmmm, what’s cooking?
Aromatic spices stewing
Spinach & vegetable brewing
In bucolic style
Chopped onions & tomatoes
Anything edible goes
With the flow
Spicy chicken tandoori
Worth the calories
Yum, Yummy
O! My tummy
O! Mr Curry Delight
This curry sauce
Deserves an applause!
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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5: 31a.m.
i am again listening to the sound
of the cock crowing
the silence of the jalousie window
still closed from the morning light
the faint sound of the radio in
the kitched where the housemaid does
the cooking and the cleaning
the sound of the broom
cleaning the garage and the sliding
of the rags wiping the car
the little brown dog arrives
from a kitchen door that just opened
letting it in and here it comes
as i write this
licking my lap and wagging
its short tail
i am feeling like i am the master
of my world and i am not letting
it go like some sand slipping
through my fingers
i will take a bite of my own day
like the way i take the slice
of the sweet papaya
laid on a glass table
beside a toasted sandwich
a slice of bacon and a hot
black brewed coffee.
inside a chocolate porcelain cup.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Agony
And in spoonful oil
Kitchen is busy frying
Mustard and lentils two tablespoons each
And chillies hundred grams
And a pack of cigar or raw tobacco
In added two tablespoons of oil
Then to grind with lemon size tamarind, salt
To make tobacco chutney
And the water soaked tobacco
Kitchen is busy grinding
With salt and cashews handful
To make balls, be deep fried in oil
Be added to a masala tomato puree
To make tobacco kofta curry
And to the cooked rice
Kitchen is busy seasoning
With fried clove, cardamom, and cinnamon
Onion and ginger-garlic paste, salt
Sauted well with flavoured tobacco
Then to garnish with cut cigar pieces
To make tobacco biryani
Tobacco chutney, tobacco curry
Tobacco biryani..what next..
Forgotten Kitchen hurrying
To make more koftas
Be put in sugar syrup
To make tobacco jamuns
Then you see, exhausted Kitchen
Under the wildly running fan rests
Wildly coughing out
Her heart despite its rapidness
Awaiting patiently her lover
Who's been chained to her delicious cooking
poem by Indira Renganathan
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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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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
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Lesson of Life (Thanksgiving)
(dedicated to Ms. Elī na Garanč a, a great mezzo-soprano)
This autumn is so relief
I hope it is a purely day
I have spiritual sense
Inside my very heart
I would like to attend
The ceremony or travel
Long distances with my family
I hope we have a large dinner too
We are as a family
Gather together
Yes, it’s the time
To a family reunion
I invite my all family, all friends
We are happily cooking together
We are happily eating together
We are happily talking together
Sweet potatoes
Pumpkin pie
Cranberries
A turkey
When crops are gathered
We are all thank God
We would also celebrate
National Unity, the harvest
I share what I have
With those who don’t have
I provide free meals
For the poor, old people, homeless
I prepare meals for them
I serve meals for them
I give meals for them
I sing Prayer of Thanksgiving with them
(inspired by Thanksgiving Celebration)
poem by Ahmad Shiddiqi
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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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21st Year
Papa lets you go
at this age you are free
now marry
have kids and love
the woman
that you can have
do not regret
do not blame anyone
all the opportunities have
been served like
your regular meals
and you were give
time to savor
the salt and sugar and
the whiteness of rice
like pearls
if you are confused
by all means that is normal
now go
Papa sets you free
do not be lonely
do not be frightened
by that ocean of freedom
by that space of options
course your own orbit
spin
revolve
make your own number of
nights and days
embrace the darkness
as well as the light
do not just be an asteroid
be the comet
explode if you may
to create your own
new universe......
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Love Is Too Much
My love is too much-
it embarrasses you-
blood, poems, babies,
red needs that telephone
from foreign countries,
black needs that spatter
the pages
of your white papery heart.
You would rather have a girl
with simpler needs:
lunch, sex, undemanding
loving,
dinner, wine, bed,
the occasional blow-job
& needs that are never
red as gaping wounds
but cool & blue
as television screens
in tract houses.
Oh my love,
those simple girls
with simple needs
read my books too.
They tell me they feel
the same as I do.
They tell me I transcribe
the language of their hearts.
They tell me I translate
their mute, unspoken pain
into the white light
of language.
Oh love,
no love
is ever wholly undemanding.
It can pretend coolness
until the pain comes,
until the first baby comes,
howling her own infant need
into a universe
that never summoned her.
The love you seek
cannot be found
except in the white pages
of recipe books.
It is cooking you seek,
not love,
cooking with sex coming after,
cool sex
that speaks to the penis alone,
& not the howling chaos
of the heart.
poem by Erica Jong
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Harmonious Time
Run on, sweet lad, into harmonious time,
Open the door, so often the scents are yours;
Melt the butter in the pan and watch us grow
As you run on into a time of cooking.
Run for your life and death as fellows of the city
Express joy as you enter and return to your own town.
Forming entrances will keep you holy,
As holiness does not shut goodness, merely
An evil nature has been expelled from the country.
A sweet cooking island supplies enough food,
Lying and bathing is a time of marvel.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Coffee Dream
Although it’s only one hour till lunch -
my stomach won’t wait.
Non-stop growling for the past two hours
has gotten the best of me.
Besides, my taste buds
are ready to murder for a cup of coffee.
Should I say ‘murder’ in a courthouse?
I discovered myself in the eating lounge
with a coffee machine that still doesn’t work.
How unfair that I can’t leave the building
for a quick cup of coffee till lunch.
So, I resort to having the small salad and orange
that was to be my lunch.
Still, I want that coffee!
I’ll take it boiling hot
right out of the pot.
So now I look forward
to when then release us for lunch.
I plan to run down the street and get
a very large cup of coffee -
maybe two or three.
I desperately need my caffeine fix for today.
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
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happy Pongal,2012 (in poem)
May harvest crops of rice and sugar-cane,
Raised up by human toil and sun and rain,
In cooking-pot well blend with milk, honey,
To boil over bringing joy, health, money!
May Pongal kolams show this in great hue;
May clothes anew and festivities too;
May Maker bless humanity full view;
May Pongal show our faith in God that’s due!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 15-01-2012
poem by John Celes
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March of the Wheelchairs
In Dakota land lunch is dinner
and dinner supper while lunch is lunch,
as traditions from farmlands go.
Now breakfast is at 6, lunch at 9
dinner at noon, lunch at 3
supper at 7, everything timed.
Day in and day out, better not be late.
Weather fickle, eating ain’t!
Farm traditions, genetics ‘grained.
No surprise, nursing meals,
wheelchairs marching, internal time,
largo moves, staccato fades.
Day in, day out…they’re not late
Wheelchairs marching, marching in
farm traditions, genetics ‘grained.
Weather fickle….eating ain’t!
Hope God keeps the schedule,
or has… a special dining hall.
As these Wheelchairs… arrive
For the most part this is a place to find down-to-earth advice on everyday cooking, eating, food shopping, cooking equipment, and nice things to put on your table.
quote by Arthur Schwartz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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