Tag Archives: #food

The Delicate Trifle

Today, I am a delicate trifle;

yesterday, I was a little tart;

tomorrow, I might be a Rum Baba –

or a Scone –

who knows what I shall make;

maybe I’ll be

an upside-down pineapple cake.

Cornish Panties (misprint?)

I fill my Cornish Panties

with carrots and with swede:

I pop in cooked green lentils,

as Vegan is my creed;

add potatoes and some seasoning;

to give the zest I need,

I love these Cornish Panties,

I am a fool indeed.

Butterbean Barley Buddha Bowl (#Vegan Poetry)

Butterbean Barley Buddha Bowl (#Vegan Poetry)

Would you like…

a Butterbean Barley Buddha Bowl?

I’d like to be able to say it.

There’s a lady on the seashore, she sells them.

That figures.

If I said that…

If I said that…

If I said that

that was horrible,

would you be offended?

If I said that…

then I would be lying.

if I said that

that tasted bland,

would our engagement be there ended?

If I said that…

I would still be lying.

If I said that

that was quite possibly

the tastiest food

that I had ever had?

I wouldn’t be lying?

And then you bring me something else,

that you have created with your charms…

And, if I said that

that was even better

than anything I’d ever tried…

I cried…

“My tastebuds have exploded;

my head is in a spin;

how I love your Barbecue Cauliflower,

and everything you make,

Crispy Tofu for the win!”

… and, then,

the creamiest Cheezecake.

Nooch – Another Vegan Haiku (because people seem to like them).

Nooch – Another Vegan Haiku (because people seem to like them).


Nutritional yeast,

it’s a beast of many horns –

no, only joking.

“Pasty cold , or piping hot?” @RateMyPasty

“Pasty cold , or piping hot?” @RateMyPasty

Rate my pasty

from one to ten –

or from onan to deg

if you like.

Berate my pasty

if you dare,

it should only be mine

to celebrate

or discard in Liskeard

in despair.

Integrate a Devon pasty?

Infiltrate, I think not.

No, furnish me

with Cornish fare

crimped to the side

and leave me there

to contemplate

the meal’s sad fate;

my Cornish Pasty

I here await.

“Hot Pasties Ahead!”

“Hot Pasties Ahead!”

Hot Pasties in a lay-by;

10am to 2pm.

Cornish provender

for the hungry traveller,

and if you missed the opportunity

to feed your Cornish needs,

there’s another Pasty lay-by

wherever this road leads.

The Postman Only Brings Gnocchi Twice.

The Postman Only Brings Gnocchi Twice.

The first time, it was such a surprise,

and the gnocchi was really, really nice.

The second time, he also gave us garlic bread as a side,

very long, not that wide,

(we think that they may have been breadsticks).

When the postman left a second time,

we awaited his return;

but, we were sad, later that day, to learn in a trice,

that the postman only brings gnocchi, twice.

Upon Waffles and Waffling (NB There are no ‘waffles’ just a lot of waffling).


Visit http://www.crosbys.com for waffles

Yes, indeed;
Where shall I start?
Firstly, and formostly,
I need to correct the poetical formatting that is my current
‘Default Mode’ as this is prose.

There! That is better, is it not? And here I would just like to say that it looks likely to me that ‘rhetorical’ questions always seem to be desirous of an answer. Who’d have thought that could be the case?

Who, indeed?

And (moving on swiftly) this being prose, I would like to discuss a most serious matter. But, me being me, I am very unlikely (indeed) to be able to do so.

I have the shallow thought process of a blunt scythe cutting butter. Excuse my imagery, please. That was not really thought through, but I shall leave it anyway – as it bears out my initial statement from within as from without.

Is this still making sense?

Did it ever?

Exactly. You can tell when I have no set theme to follow: can’t you?

You can? Go you!

Random stream-of-consciousness writings do tend to be… well, random.

Don’t they?

If you could answer all the questions ever posed would that leave you dated or insatiable?


PS Do I sign off with the ‘Discuss’ method too often? Does it lose its impact after the third time? Why?


” ‘Smozers!’ Jane Likes ‘Smozers!’ “


“Smozers! Jane likes ‘Smozers!’ “

Which is not quite the Earth-shattering news that you’d think.
Jane ‘actually’ likes ‘samosas’ which is even more of a ‘non’ event.

“Don’t put your Smozers in the toaster, Mrs Potamus.”

Which phrase is just Jane’s idea of using a lyric from The Sweetchunks Band’s song ‘Hippopotamus’ and substituting some words to effect a clever play on the matter in hand.

The original lyric is:

“Don’t put your hippo in a tutu, Mrs Potamus!”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h8A5VFcLOvE&sns=tw via @youtube

Which is s scream when heard live for the first time (and soon becomes an ‘ear-worm’ for the rest of your life or until you die – whichever comes first).

Anyway, the ‘Smozers!’ In question were warmed up in the aforementioned toaster – causing SDS (Samosa Disintegration Syndrome) to occur. Muggins here had to clean out the toaster (remembering to remove from the power and clear the sink for the project).

Glad to say that the toaster and myself survived to toast the occasion; but, sadly, the ‘Smozer!’ that was released from the toasting device didn’t survive the operation – black armbands are to be worn at half mast for the foreseeable future.

I hope that this sad tale has not upset your delicate metabolisms. If it ‘has’ done any irrevocable damage at all to your body or fragile mind, consider yourself lucky that it’s nearly at an end.

Which is now