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 absorb the fuchsia in the 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