steak
food, History, Humour

Forbidden Steak

Enthroned regal on the chef’s handpicked

plate, adorned with the Grecian cutlery.

Crowned with a dash of lush-push

glistening glorious butter surrounded with 

the gleeful wild mushrooms, snobbish

handpicked Romas, and that indifferent

Sun-baked Potato King.

 

Juices of Youth overflowing through

edges, butchered  just this morning by

some sturdy Polish hands, around

The Madison Square Gardens…

 

If wars were fought for the Helen of Troy 

or Roman Empire was fallen who knows?

A sinful bite of those decadent juices from

luscious fats is worth all the battles taken

with the mighty Vegan empire.

 

Choirs of the Weight-Watchers might

conspire, The great David may 

not rescue this time…

 

Gods smile on beings who resist and

endure, I might never be under any

benevolence or in League-Extraordinaire

of Skinny and Thin

 

I’ll surrender to the horrors of every 

calorie-watcher or prying gaze of my

wise Aerobics master. I’ll sing my grace

and dig into the flesh of forbidden

Steak today..

 

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autumn, feminine, food

My Kitchen Empire

When my man is under the spell of elusive

raven nights, I carry in my bosom a long

-held secret, in glimmers of the faint

candle-light

 

I carefully lay my eyes upon the shelves of my

oriental kitchen, laden with my bridal 

copper pots & pans, embellished of

emerald peacocks and exquisite

Mughal florets.

 

My majestic Indian Mortar, Earthen Moroccan

Tagine lay enthroned midst the spice

bazaar, magical herbs gilded like

jewels in the crown of my

Kitchen Empire .

 

As I stir heavenly liquids against thick walls of

ashen pots the mushroom fumes of blunt

peppers, topaz turmeric soar much high

raising the temperatures of cold

Connecticut nights.

 

Uncle Sage and Aunty Rosemary sit beside me

all night whispering to me the magic that

will unfold tonight, as I stir the curry

in circles with all my might I often

shed a tear- or so on 

 my plight ,

 

The divine basil fills up my senses and assures

that things will go alright, while the ruby

peppers keep raising the temperatures,

and tiny sparkling drops crawls through

neck much to my annoyance.

 

Lamenting lemon appears, splitting into a glorious

vision of two, infusing with the clear waters

of great American Land quenching my

thirsts with concoction of fabled

lemonade. 

 

As the coterie of spices tinker in the pot, I realize

I need one more ploy and blow a puff of

aphrodisiac Fenugreek to stop the

ensuing battle tonight…

 

All this and more till oriental sun-rises on my imperial

Kitchen Durbar….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

food, poetry, Travel

The Land of Food Lovers

“Mac-Donaldus Tacum, 

Infurnus Divina Steakum

Panem nostrum daily

coffeum withum summum

donoughtus”

 

At every turn a Mac-Donald’s

at every curve a Wendy’s,

there across the road lay

a live breathing hot-dog

under the careful gaze of

cozy Connecticut Sun.

 

The lush garden free flows

with aroma of Dunkin

-Doughnut’s coffee, all I need

is a fabled pitcher of Greeks to

gulp it all down in one go,

such an aphrodisiac for my

fragile senses…

 

Now that I’m in land of free

I must uphold and behold

in my sight almost the mythical

Popeye’s Fried Chicken at the

corners of which rests the

pleasures of many virgins

 

 That legendary Roadhouse  

steak 🥩 the valor of which

echoes in my ears and the

glistening fat that will linger

in my veins for many years

to come…

 

The proud French can always

proclaim their victories when

it comes to their luxurious wines

from the regions of Normandy, 

but the Californian vineyards

are always a step ahead for their

perennial sun-shine and the

voluptuous grape-vines.  

 

May be it was not the vision

Martin Luther had in mind

or was never to be Lincoln’s

dream in hindsight but as

I smell the rich flavors of

decadent fries somewhere

I can tell you for sure, this

land is every food lovers

paradise !

 

As for me humble folks, some

say I’m a traveler while some

a migrant, but I know I am only

here to take few bites more &

will return to my land carrying

some flavors more, as I still have

to taste one last morsel from my

aging mom’s hands…

 

 

 

 

 

food, Nature

Veggies

 

THE GOAL WITH SIX PACKS FD56A235-3B77-4BF2-A228-0A1995D99F91.jpeg

 

 

 

 

 

ME WITH TEN PACKS OF CHIPS

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Just focus on yourself

( David Neira, Chape Fitness)

(So said the great David… focus on yourself and eat natural and gluten-free but how???)

How about some veggies 🌽 for the morning, to kick start a day with health and anti-oxidants? Please don’t ask what I had for dinner🤓🤓. My new year is resolution to include more natural produce and cut out gluten breads and pasta.Yesterday I made a final vow with myself  over the fire 🔥 burner to abandon my savoury taste buds infavour of whatever grows out in nature, raw and wild!! But after my vow in morning at night when I saw yummy Frank Pepe pizza I completely forgot that  I’ve taken a secret oath to give vegetables and fruits a chance to grow inside me and ended up eating couple of big slices. I stopped after three slices  and realized that in the morning I made a resolution😐😐😐 to foresake processed infavour of natural.

Hence in order to compensate for the sins of last night, prepared this sautéed vegetables in  morning in hope of redemption. I’ve several notes around the house to remind me of my pledge( I keep forgetting 🤓)

May be mama mushroom will forgive me and by next year vines of tomatoes will grow out of me with ocassional chillies and squashes!

( Dedicated to sincere efforts of Chape Fitness,

online training

fantastic site by David Neira, a fitness expert, nutritionist and a valiant Spaniard. If you are looking for healthy living and fitness then it’s click away )

 

Continue reading “Veggies”

Open Kitchen
Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Literature, Nature, poetry, Self-Help

An Open Kitchen

The majestic oak trees just shed some woods

the lush baby spinach leaves oozing out of hoods.

In the large pristine green pastures equally growing,

the youthful wild umbrella mushrooms wooing 

and with the raw Ramona tomatoes in my sight 

I am sure that my stew is going to be really bright. 

While preparing stew in a pot it started to slowly rain,

but my mom told me no hard-work ever goes in vain.

The ever benevolent Mother-Earth as my open kitchen

and while stew simmered,the humble deer also pitched in.

seduction
feminine, Humour, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry, satire, sensual, wit,

A Secret Culinary Seduction

Once again with a thought of being honest to the

marital vows taken in the bygone century I decided 

to lay down a gourmet meal for the darling husband.

 

Discovered an  ancient recipe from the archives of

the great Confucius and took out a vintage Indian

spice box chiseled out of great silver ivory tusks, handed

to me by the Roman goddess Edesia to tame wild husbands.

 

The box gilded with rows of turquoise peacocks mating

with peahens, embellished with golden petals of marigold,

with spice bowls placed like pawns on the board of chess.

 

Each spice trying to outshine the other in exotic flavors

and rich aromas. With a conniving  conspiracy to satiate

the belly and in the state of intoxication of thousand opiates.

 

To put forward a burning desire in my bosom since I put

my promiscuous gaze on one emerald green neck-piece in the

grand Promenade on route number five, one fine spring day.

 

For I resisted the entire spring and summer and carefully

weighed a hour in the fall when planets were to be aligned

in my favor as prophesied  by a Turkish soothsayer 

 

I took out my slender Moroccan tagine, and lined

it with a luscious dark pressed oil glistening like sparkles

on the earthen pot and smeared it with my scheming hands

to the farthest corners possible for the spell to work.

 

Sauted some mellowed sweet onions, craftily sprinkled the

topaz turmeric, with julienne of aphrodisiac garlic and

blew a long kiss of exotic scarlet peppers over the tagine

 

To prepare a curry of a freshly butchered young lamb

still warm, acquired specially from the northern highlands,

reared and slaughtered only for the special occasions like this.

 

Adorning the garb of a regal chef, I simmered and simmered

for hours till the juicy flesh fell of  the fragile white bones,

while engaging in brown study  of all that I can extract from the

hapless man in the state of profound ecstasy.

 

I laid my plan meticulously in the hibiscus laden English bowls while

weaving a devilish plot, wore a plunging lace blouse with the help

of pygmy elf of seduction to give a little sneak- peak of the cascading

waterfall between the two splendid alps, and clamped lips for a pout.

 

Threw an oomph in the curry along with the strands of aromatic  

Kashmiri saffron and laughed at the marvel of my own success,

 while patiently waiting for the door-bell to ring and my unarmed 

knight to arrive to begin with secret culinary seduction.