~~~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
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Related quotes
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
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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
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Sharp With Added Spice
'Over seasoned! '
This came to spill,
From whispered lips.
Yet to those unacquainted...
The presentation and taste,
Was more than appreciated.
And in their eyes the show of this,
Did not hesitate to express it.
They did not mention an absence of skill.
They were too busy enjoying the delicious cake.
To pick crumbs from plates.
Until the cook appeared unexplained,
From the kitchen to gain attention.
Sharp with added spice,
Comes a lashing from an unexpected tongue.
It seems someone has said,
Whoever is doing the cooking with minimal flair...
Should learn more about baking,
To become more aware of what's required instead!
And serious was the cook who took all hostage!
With an eyebrow raised and quivering lips.
And outraged was the cook's posture...
No one dared to dismiss.
~Out with it!
WHO said 'over seasoned'?
I heard every word.
And it did not please.
WHO was it?
Who dared to say I over season?
When I sweated to perfect...
A guarantee your taste buds would be teased.
Out with it or no one leaves.
You ungrateful banana eating chimpanzees.
How dare you mock my expertise.
I'm not kidding.
Out with it or no one leaves! ~
And throats slowly swallowed.
People froze as they sat.
Wishing they remembered when,
Those comments were made in jest!
'I said that but I was just joking.'
~You provoked me with a whispered joke?
Do you know how close I came to choking a few throats?
I...
Am,
A CHEF.
And serious to the end of my very breath.
With...
And I must admit this,
With a flair for dramatics.
Please...
There is no need for applause.
I accept,
Only business references! ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wild Honey
B. wilson
Mama Im tellin you as sure as Im standin here
Shes my girl and thats the way Im keepin it my mama dear
No good will it do you to stand there and frown at me
The girls got my heart and my loves comin down on me
Last time I met her since I got a taste of wild honey
(sweet, sweet, my honey bee)
You know shes got the sweetness of the honey bee
(sweet, sweet, my honey)
Honey, (sweet, sweet, my honey bee) she got me all and stung me good, oh, yesiree
(sweet, sweet, my honey)
Before he even stung bees buzzin around her hive
She singled me out, single handed took me alive
Im gonna take her home and spend my life
Eatin up the wild honey
(sweet, sweet, my honey bee)
(sweet, sweet, my honey)
(sweet, sweet, my honey bee)
(sweet, sweet, my honey)
(sweet, sweet, my honey)
Oh mama shes sweeter (sweeter) and sweeter (sweeter) and sweeter, sweeter
Yaaaa, honey (sweet, sweet, my honey bee)
Let me tell you how she really got to my soul (sweet,sweet my honey)
It aint funny, (sweet, sweet, my honey bee) the way she made me want to sing a little rock and
Roll (sweet, sweet, my honey)
Theres nothing quite as good as the taste of wild honey
Break my back workin just to save me some money
I can spend my life with her eatin up her wild honey
(sweet, sweet, my honey bee)
Oh honey shes sweeter (sweeter) and sweeter (sweeter) and sweeter, sweeter
Now
(sweet, sweet, my honey bee)
(sweet, sweet, my honey)
(sweet, sweet, my honey bee)
(sweet, sweet, my honey)
Gimme some gimme some
(sweet, sweet, my honey)
Gimme some gimme some(shes the one)
(sweet, sweet, my honey)
Gimme some wild honey
Gimme some gimme some..........
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pelican Restaurant
Pelican Restaurant is run by Tara Sami who is sweet,
she makes her restaurant cute and upbeat.
A cozy decor that has a quaint beach town feel,
the Pelican Restaurant makes great delicious meals.
For breakfast is the Lamb Keema which has a flavorful taste,
it comes with home fries that taste great.
Have a spinach omelet made by Chef Brian Stone,
tastes hearty like cooked fresh in the kitchen at your home.
Pelican is open 7am to 12 noon, bring a friend or two.
Even open 6 to 10 on Friday nights with Indian plates to satisfy your appetite.
Indian dishes which is out of sight, like the Lentil fritters for price of $7.95,
served with cilantro & jalapeno sauce, making your tastes buds come alive.
Try the slowly roasted marinated cilantro and ginger on the Nihan beef shank.
cooked on the bone with spicy savory curry to make it taste great.
Vegetarian and meat dishes served with yogurt, naan, and basmati rice,
this adds to your dinner to make it extra nice.
Also your dog is welcome, sit with them at a table outside,
you can enjoy your meal with them in the sunshine.
Remember the Pelican restaurant only accepts cash,
it's a great eating experience when visiting on Lake Ave.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on October 13,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pelican Restaurant
Pelican Restaurant is run by Tara Sami who is sweet,
she makes her restaurant cute and upbeat.
A cozy decor that has a quaint beach town feel,
the Pelican Restaurant makes great delicious meals.
For breakfast is the Lamb Keema which has a flavorful taste,
it comes with home fries that taste great.
Have a spinach omelet made by Chef Brian Stone,
tastes hearty like cooked fresh in the kitchen at your home.
Pelican is open 7am to 12 noon, bring a friend or two.
Even open 6 to 10 on Friday nights with Indian plates to satisfy your appetite.
Indian dishes which is out of sight, like the Lentil fritters for price of $7.95,
served with cilantro & jalapeno sauce, making your tastes buds come alive.
Try the slowly roasted marinated cilantro and ginger on the Nihan beef shank.
cooked on the bone with spicy savory curry to make it taste great.
Vegetarian and meat dishes served with yogurt, naan, and basmati rice,
this adds to your dinner to make it extra nice.
Also your dog is welcome, sit with them at a table outside,
you can enjoy your meal with them in the sunshine.
Remember the Pelican restaurant only accepts cash,
it's a great eating experience when visiting on Lake Ave.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on October 13,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Too Cheap And Cheesy
I am not a garbage creator.
But I do understand,
Those who have a taste for it
May rate it as great.
To satisfy that taste.
And I am far too original
To substitute what I do,
Just to get a cheap nibble or two.
I offer more to the menu,
From which to choose.
But just to throw together garbage
Is not what I choose to do.
That's too cheap and cheesy.
I am a chef.
Not just another cook on the pursuit.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sick and Tired
I'm sick and tired of
people being sick and tired
this country needs more exercise
definitely less 'self-help'
definitely more helping others
i don't season my life with
bitterness, thinking that
it'll taste better.
have they ever had candy?
or ice cream
or a nice warm prime rib?
(vegetarians, I am still
speaking metaphorically)
or is life a chef
hiding behind a door?
or a paper hat-wearing bitter teenager
flipping your burger
and spitting on it?
i say
it's a free country
it's the u. s. of a.
it's still the land of opportunity
the land of plenty (sometimes too much)
and the Garden of Eden
poem by Justin Tang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cooking and taste
eating the same tasteless dinner at the only diner
the umpteenth time, a thought came to my mind
am i a guinea pig or one of its kind
or was there a conspiracy behind
has my taste buds gone out of date
why is all so tasteless, that is the food i ate
i dared to ask the manager why the taste is so bad
bang came a caustic reply, this is by the best cook he ever had
(insinuating a problem not with his cook but with my taste)
well then it has to be my taste buds i thought
directing all my efforts to the food i had bought
then came storming, the savior, inside the hall
in his hand was the same food for which i have taken the fall
indignanlty he shouted at the manager
this food is so bad that even his dog had refused to had
hell i thought even the dog has a better taste
why, why am i such a waste
the dog in me forced me to start cooking that very day
the dog in me does sometimes refuses to eat what i cook
the human in me requests him to hav another look
for, when people are struggling for one square meal a day
how can i keep the food i cooked at bay,
hence i eat, taste or no taste, everything i cook, every day.
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
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As Sweet As Honey
Come to the land of beauty to taste my love,
For there is a special creamy milk set for you to taste;
Come to the land of love to taste the true meaning of my love,
For there you will meet the beautiful young ladies!
And the handsome men are there to cheer you up.
This is like a folklore story of love and,
You will love to stay the night in your nakedness;
For te land is full of sweet aroma of words,
And my love is as sweet as honey.
You will be infused with the rivers along the line and,
You will hear the music of love being played daily;
For your health will be taken care with my love.
You will visit me again and again after your first experience,
For the sweet taste of love is the thing that you need;
And i am the example of the things that moves your love.
There is a dramatic act of love out here and,
You will like to run naked in the dark as well;
And you will live on to love me,
For i am as sweet as honey and your dreams will come true!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Like None Other Can Produce
I've been both on top and on the bottom,
And have witnessed those mediocre...
Perform with pretentions to get attention.
Believing to get noticed,
Will aid in their feelings of self worth.
But if one truly is connected to self,
And appreciates the ownership of an identity...
It matters not,
Who decides who should deliver what to whom...
To have it expressed and rated.
It will still achieve a quality like none other can produce.
Regardless where in the kitchen it is placed,
It will still be sought after...
For the taste it satisfies.
And that is why the texture of the mix can not be replicated.
Only a knowing 'chef' not just a 'cook' does this!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If I Were Ice Cream
Wat flavor would I be
Would I be a classic like vanilla strawberry or chocolate some times i wanna run away with the goodness in my pocket. Ive been described as rocky road mmmm velvety chocolate and so sweet. my life hasn't always been easy so it makes since to me I'm soft but a little nutty talking about this icecreams making me hungry.
I wonder why icecream can be so comforting. But at the same time it's Different on the taste buds of everything. My taste buds scream loud for ice cream. But as human we don't realize how much we use that thing we use ice cream for broken hearts icecream has a way to cheer us up it's also used on a hot summer day to cool us off alil as the sun goes away.
what flavor best describes you
I love all types of ice cream so that means (I love you to) as I think of all the extravagant types that sit on the tip of the tongue man there's not even enough days on the earth to try every last one. I love flavors there all unique each one is different
poem by Keema Kreations
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Ode to a Meal of Life
I took in all I could
Flavors of what life offered
Taste that could turn your tongue around
Dissatisfying sensations like explosions
Starting each reaction around 7 in the morning
Ending every night randomly with dinner
Digesting as if I were reborn in my sleep
Dreams influenced by the senses felt before rest
Today I flew tomorrow I blew up
Into a million pieces of glass
Reflecting the fates I have devoured
Meals become endless hopes to try something new
Eventually my taste buds begin to expire
Dying and lying on the dry tongue
Saliva surfacing to fight past fleeting times
Oh how the good times pass by so quickly
The great moments forgotten so easily
Oh how the sad times bring us misery
The worst moments devastating our savory
The dish we lovingly pick at
Ode of the lovely homely delicacy
The positivity of creation of a cook
A chef so-called the creator
This ode to life
Its fresh warm smell attracts all
The lively breathing behavior emitted
Oh this ode to life
This plate full of experiences
But what is at the end of this dish?
The last bit of taste?
Is it sweet, bitter, sour?
It is to our hearts content
Personally though, it is bitter-sweet
It is spiced with the death of it all
Our tribute ends as the spoils rot
Sure the meal has been fine but the last crumb ended
With nothing more than a bitter spite
Leaving a lusting hunger for the past felt
Causing us to be grateful for life
Allowing us to cherish and live life
This life is more than a meal
Our gluttony may have spent it to the last
But we pay for it as we must
Ode to life we continue to its savoury last bite
poem by Han One Sail
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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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
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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
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