Toque Talk

Tonight, we stake our claim

in the kitchen,

as with our hands,

the plates we sculpt

Into their flowering.

Shroud the scallop with aspic –

a sheath of tender glass

over a mound

of white,

a basil inlayed within.

Drop a shave of iced spirit

onto itself—

a fragrant river

where swim bay leaves,

peppercorns, citron rinds

sitting

on crystal.

Bathe the grapes

in Campari,

glaze them with a sea

of wine,

ruby-red,

hot,

sticky,

fruity.

Sear the tuna

hot

hot

hot

Let the mustard seep in.

Dribble a duo

of blackcurrant vinaigrette –

biting, acerbic –

and eucalyptus oil,

a cool breeze

In the tongue.

Split open the vanilla pod

scrape it with

the chafing of its skin.

sprinkle over crème anglaise,

let shiver and frost,

cream, dream

In languor

in an electric carousel.

Swish demiglace ‘round

smoking pigeon legs

sitting on a velvet

of foie gras

reserved for tongues

and bellies

we deem

as royalty.

Let us then

sprinkle into the night

a bounty of flavors

textures

scents

ethereal.

Our aprons soiled

Before plates –

our empty canvass-

We claim the kitchen

And the night

as ours.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, August 30th, 2006 at 11:50 pm and is filed under POETRY. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.