Kitchen cabaret

Day 7: "write a poem that argues against, or somehow questions, a proverb or saying. They say that “all cats are black at midnight,” but really? Surely some of them remain striped. And maybe there is an ill wind that blows some good. Perhaps that wind just has some mild dyspepsia.  Whatever phrase you pick, I hope you have fun complicating its simplicity. "

I've always found it amusing (I know, I'm easily amused) that there are two contradictory sayings: too many cooks spoil the broth, and many hands make light work.  So here's a poem about cooking together.


In the early days we'd cook together.
Too bound up in each other to stand apart
We'd chop, anticipate the next ingredient,
Pass the wooden spoon while the other cooked. 
A well choreographed kitchen ballet. 

Nowadays we prefer to cook alone.
We have our allotted days to stand solo at the hob, 
To chop, decide our own ingredients, 
Find the required utensils as we blend and stir. 
It works: each meal a gift to the other.  

© Copyright 2022. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved.


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