A Special Edition: Food

The sense of smell is a power stimulus. We remember up to 10,000 separate smells, each triggering a specific memory.

What if food cooked in the oven and perfumed your home. What would it be? Would you love the smell of roasted beets in an orange glaze? Or the smell of old fashioned pot roast. Or sugar cookies? Or roasting yams?

Or caramelized onions, garlic, tomatoes?

Saturday afternoon, heavy rains drench our area. It inspired me to spend some time cleaning out a closet. I discovered a poem I’d written back in 1982 entitled FOOD.

The first stanza of the poem became a time machine—living with my parents in our postage stamp house. My mom prepared Stroganoff and heated up an apple pie in the oven.

My stomach growled so loud my little sister blamed the dog. The poor dog looked mystified.

I borrowed one of my mom’s canary yellow legal pads and one of her black and silver rotary dial telephone pens, and jotted down this poem in the space of ten minutes.

Slowly spinning, slowly turning,
Food gives me quite a yearning.
Round and round the room it spins,
I can’t hear above the din.

A steak gets up and crosses the table,
Holding back, I was barely able.
Then the ice cream came running by,
If I don’t get food, I’m going to die!

Hersey bars fly through the air,
Then a chocolate truffle—none can compare.
Spaghetti noodles wriggle like a snake,
Right onto someone else’s plate.

The hot dogs were barking up a tree,
Oh how I wish that tree were me.
Just to take a single bite,
To me would be a pure delight.

A chocolate cake spins round the room,
It’s being chased by a…waiter?!
English muffins fill the sea,
Oh how good it would look inside of me!

Tacos and burritos are on the shelf,
Just to eat them I’d give my health.
Here they come, there they go,
Ten dozen sno-cones in a row.

A Jello salad comes jiggling by,
All the marshmallows begin to fly.
The sausages tie themselves in a knot,
For $100 I’d buy the lot.

Slowly spinning, slowly turning,
Now my stomach’s really churning!
For just one bite I’d sell my soul,
I’d take a cow and eat it whole.

Here it comes, this one’s for me!
A giant tray! With just one pea?
I stood up and demanded more,
The waiter told me there’s more in store.

So then it came, a great big plate!
But all that was on it was one small date?!
Now I was angry, they’d gotten my goat,
Then the waiter gave me a note.

I’d eaten everything in sight,
They’d not feed me another bite!
This is crazy, I was not able,
But to show them I ate the table!

Now I was full and beginning to bloat,
I’d eaten so much I shouldn’t gloat.
Slowly spinning, slowly turning,
Now I have no more yearning.

*  *  *

 

What smells take you back to a fond memory?

In special edition tradition, here is “Food Glorious Food” from Oliver! Take it away gentlemen.

Until next week.

Ciao,

Fannie