Culinary Dreams

* Note:  We have a new Chef John du Toit in Tucson at Janos.  He befriended me on Facebook this morning.  He also had Chocolate Corn, Chocolate Ganache, Praline Feuilletine, Praline Cream, and Sweet Corn Sorbet written on his FB wall which started me salivating.  This is the result.  I spent several hours on Epicurious.com and Dictionary.com attempting to understand words I had never even heard before, with delicious results.

 

 

 

Chocolate Corn popped golden yellow into

Hot kernels picked up with long toothpicks

Dipped in melted thick dark semi-sweet Ghirardelli

From San Francisco’s salty wharf, smelling sweet

Even across the bay.

Soft Chocolate Ganache warms the genioglossus tongue

Instant perfection sent via neurons to the internal mind

Via the heart of my soul

So lovingly that eyes weep, even nose hairs tingle

Then braid themselves in ecstasy.

Praline Feuilletine desert of Kellogg’s corn flakes

Tossed gently with milk chocolate praline paste

Presented at the Culinary World Cup competition

With white powdered sugar and toasted coconut

Named the desert for the King of England.

Praline Cream on hot lush Irish oatmeal

Slowly boiled to perfection in copper pots with long handles

Gold and eggplant hued raisins float

With blue agaves sirupped cinnamon walnuts

Barely touch with dreams of motherhood gently remembered.

Sweet Corn Sorbet chilled icy crystals to taste

Served in Arizona’s hot night air

As we sit outside absorbing the fuchsin Catalina sunset

Melting as we listen to Latin Jazz’s Raphael

Singing “Girl from Ipanema” so softly

Droplets of water roll down my spine

As the sorbet melts on my tongue

Shoulders bent forward lest I miss one syllable

Of this somewhat familiar, yet unknown language

Of meaningful food laced with magical song.

All rights reserved.  ©2010 by Sara Fryd

Denim Blue Days

Denim blues on fences paintedskulls

Ready for a party

    of skulls & wooden angels

Hung on nails, left to wither…

Adorn the roadside

where we stop to buy chilies and beer

Just past the right turn of the Rio Grande.

Purple blue mountain ranges

                                                                                                 Jackalope Fences ©1996 by Joshua Liberman*

            divide horizons

Pointing North or East, depending

How you turn the compass

            towards the ever glowing

orange mango sunset.

The wind tossing tumbleweed

Around, against the desert floor

            like beach balls

                           at the ocean

In the sandy warm summers

                  of my childhood.

What a day to

     R…

             I…

                   D…

                          E…

          ride with the top down.

A day for keeping a faded denim jackets

(forgotten in the trunk last spring), close

Before the evening chill envelops.

Like skulls bleached, forgotten

Left to wither, left to whiten

on the desert floor.

Covered gently as a whisper

               by a blanket of the setting sun.

*This poem was written after receiving Josh’s picture above.  As with San Juan Windows, I sometimes set the photograph next to the computer, stare, then paint with words.

Fierce

Disappear fear

Of unconscious feelings

Carried so long

So far, so deep

Toss them aside

In blue recycling containers

Like plastic bottles

I pick up hiking the glorious desert

So worshiped and adored.

For who would wish

To leave it messy

Messy outside

Like me inside?

Permit him joyous entry

Knowing I’ve been

Waiting for him too long

And I will share the real me

Open me, all of me

Then maybe

Maybe…

He won’t move on

All rights reserved.  ©2010 by Sara Fryd

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