It was a rough time in the realm of reality back then.
One could not visit other countries and try their succulent cuisines, they said.
One could not meet one's friends and toast to the nuances of a delicate glass of wine, they said.
One could not go to a local restaurant and indulge in one of the local dishes, they said.
There's no more hope for me and for my tummy, she thought.
But then she looked at the kitchen, and she saw that it was all the same. The fire was as hot she said. The salt was as salty she said. The spices were as spicy I say!
The only problem was… she knew how to do no cooking.
No more excuses, she thought! There are many pancakes down the road that shall be eaten!
And thus, amidst the hardship and the chaos that doomed reality back then, she gripped the egg whisks with firm nerve and… she simply… cooked.
Touched by the light of saucepan - inspired by the smell of parsley - stained by the oil of fried eggs -
she began her journey down the Path of Cooking.
An enticing journey for sure, that she started with joy.
But soon she encountered in her way old acquaintances like fear and dismay.
How will I know when the egg is boiled?
What type of flour shall I employ?
How much salt is too much salt?
Is this a spoon or is it a knife?
How easy would it have been to just go out in the streets!
And then ask the neighbour - or even a dog!
Ask anyone that would know.
But these times were strange, as one would say.
And there was nowhere to go anyway.
So soon she found herself in a bitter mood.
She thought maybe there is no meaning.
She thought maybe there is no point!
But then she turned around,
and it was there, abandoned on the floor:
A glimpse of truth, a ray of hope;
A book that looked
like a Cooking Book.
The day finally arrived
Where she had some things to buy
Tomatoes, milk, eggs,
rice, beans, and bread.
On a shopping trip she went
With a bag and something to pay.
She skipped the mall,
she skipped the stores,
and went all excited to a market hall.
And she made it till the end,
with no fear
and good strenght.
But then, wildly, to both sides
fruits and veggies began to rise.
She read a book
She watched Youtube
But she still couldn't know
How to pick
a melon that's good.
They all seemed green
They all seemed ripe
They all seemed big
They all seemed small
What's the difference?
What's right?
She felt hazy. What a dismay!
Till a new friend
came her way
and helped her a lot
with her display.
In her seventies, thin, and small.
Her hand bended in the right angle
her knees flexed in the right degree
the melon elevated to the right altitude
One single spank that crossed the air!
With the precision of a razor blade
A millenary wisdom
A centenary science
The Path of Fruit Spanking
for a convenient diet.
With everything ready,
ingredients and tools,
the time came for cooking
and that was quite cool.
The menu was chosen
the fires were kindled
ingredients unfrozen
and ready to mingle.
Step number 1,
let's prepare the sauce
tangy, spicy and warm
you will always want more
Step number 2,
chop the veggies, chop them good,
when I see them brown
I can taste them in my soul
Step number 3,
let go of your fears.
stir them in your chest
and see how the smoke clears.
Step number 4, number 5, and 6,
the book doesn't show
what the next steps might be.
I feel like maybe it's time
that you just cook and enjoy.
Stirr, mix and try,
dirty, clean and fry.
It will always taste right
if you do it with delight.
