An Ode to Food


I am an inspired cook, never going by the book

I am original, and my recipes are never cerebral

I love my meat tender, I can not have it stale

If it were any fresher, It would walk off my plate


My food loves to prance, to jump, to dance

My food bides its time, It waits for the chance

As soon as there is no one in the room

The floor, slab and chairs are its ballroom!


My ladyfingers, so elegant and tender, play the piano

My beans and drumsticks add a beat, and play the banjo

Chicken and steak, covered with butter and flambeaud

Slathered in sauce, they dance a sexy tango


With grace, with taste, they drip from the ceiling

Drip grease on my head, it’s a great feeling

Talented textures cover my feet

Sensations in rhythm, squished in my seat

They drip down my leg, slide down in rows

A flavoured performance of mashed potatoes


I don’t care, Oh its fun, I dare you to stare

It’s a yummy performance, full of fragrance


“Daag Ache Hote Hain” says the detergent advertisement

I only wish that they’d also send me cleaning ladies/ gents



2 thoughts on “An Ode to Food

  1. lol!Ritu, imagine a ‘fresh’ chicken, winking at you as you are about to wolf it up, whisper sweetly,”hey sexy”…..:)

    LOLL sure gives “eyeing the chicks” a new twist

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