You must describe your favorite meal, but you can only use two of your five senses.
Rules: You may write prose or verse, as long or short as you like, deadline is noon Saturday. You can either email them to me or post them yourselves as comments on this post. Remember to sign off with the correct format (e.g. Mr. Derek J.).
Happy Writing!
~ The Moderator ~
Sweet, a little. There's the taste of butter sliding into cream—a thick, cold custard taste, like being in heaven. Dark, and flecked with darker, it's a colour that makes you want to eat it, smooth across the top—and on the edge, a pastry-crust that crumbles on sight. It's best chilled, unadorned with the frills of modernity, that virginal crust and pumpkin custard alone and waiting in silence to be savoured in that tiniest of pauses, utensil poised in mid-air, as the eater breathes—so filled with wonder, apprehension, and the glory of delight to come. Each taste is a new wonder, from the pointed end to the very edge, as each cutting becomes shorter but wider, filling more and more of the sensory capacities to mouth-wateringly enjoy all that is good and edible. And then, afterwards: even mangled, half-eaten on a plate, the remnants stand delectable; smeared on the rude side of a fork, or licked crassly from a finger the taste is the same: no ill-dress can change it. Truly, if we eat anything in Paradise, it will be pumpkin pie. -Mr. Josiah E.
ReplyDeleteHmm seems to be working for me now....huh.
ReplyDeleteThe grill is sizzling with the smoky, sweet smell of chicken smothered with Bar-B-Q sauce and potatoes roasting on the side. As I walk inside and past the oven, I notice the smell coming from the oven is sweet and a peek inside to find a rich, sticky-gooey pecan pie littered with pecans from South Georgia. As I continue on to the dining room, there is a table, set for two with a salad bowl brimming with deep red strawberries sliced up and arranged in a heart shape over the green lettuce leaves. I take a seat, while admiring the lovely bouquet of wildflowers, picked fresh from Dorothy's garden. My best friend sits down across from me and offers to pour me a tall glass of sweet iced tea. Oh, life's little pleasures...good food, a good friend, and good conversation. God has blessed me with so much. - Mrs. Donna J.
ReplyDeleteThe slippery noodles are cooked to perfection, and a few olives lie hidden within their recesses. Bits of onion rest on top, enhancing the meal with their presence. However, the crowning adornment of this dish is not any of these ingredients, but rather the zesty Italian dressing liberally applied. As I raise this delectable combination to my mouth, my taste buds tingle in anticipation of the deliciousness I am about to partake of.... Miss Deborah J.
ReplyDeleteCrisp crunch of onion being cut, hungry tears,
ReplyDeleteSilence of the knife through Hass,
Pleasant plop as it slides from dinosaur skin,
A dash, a splash
crinkle, and the goaty, pungent of feta
Oven door creaking open
Lamb makes his loving and gentle assault,
Mouth responds preparing itself
Promise of tender flesh,
Seasoned so subtle, perfect
Citrus tang of cold chutney,
Divine marriage with the hot, salty savory,
Closing ceremony, "Save room"
Tort, so dark, so rich, not too sweet,
Tart, uneasy alliance with raspberry,
Content, full, smiling,
Funky monkey or elephant can?
Mr. Derek J.