Originally the diary of 4 months spent in Antarctica working as a documentary film sound recordist, this blog has evolved into an online repository for the thoughts, travels and trivia of the writer Richard Fleming. For McMurdo Station, Antarctica, and polar exploration, see August through December of '06. Currently you are likely to find in these pages chronicles of my actual and literary meanderings, as well as notes on my many other passions. Also, did I mention I wrote a book?
7/06/2010
I don't need yer Grey Poupon (poem)
Let's talk about mustard,
It's not often that we do.
A manufactured condiment
That comes in a jar,
Purchased from the store.
Some say I'm a foodie, but
I had never thought to make my own.
In my defense
I've made mayonnaise.
Is mustard too mundane?
The recipe is short: mix seeds with vinegar.
We pay the French for that?
I tried this at home:
Half a cup of mustard seeds
And half a cup of vinegar
Together in a bowl.
That's all.
Two days later I put my nose down close.
"It smells like mustard"
I told Laura. She said
"That's because it is mustard"
What a revelation.
Delicious, creamy
Yellow, seedy.
Better.
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2 comments:
You go, Senf!
Better check your heritage - it seems some dormant, but dominant, genes coming all the way through.
the bavarian
don't ya have to whizzzz it up?
the price of poetry
is that you forfeit
content for
form
...
(how many syllables do elipisiss have?)
dB
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