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Food in poetry .. your favorite?

Gifted Gourmet

By Gifted Gourmet
in Food Media & Arts

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Gifted Gourmet

Gifted Gourmet

Posted
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from Slate online

"The Demise of Camembert" a poem ...

Anyone have a particular favorite? I know we have threads on food haiku already but couldn't resist ...

a selection of food poetry

including ...

The inner life a breadfruit tree at dawn

Pig Out, Edwardian Tea Room

Supermarket Blues

GLOBAL DINNER PARTY

Please note: copyright issues preclude our quoting more than a line or two ...

Melissa Goodman aka "Gifted Gourmet"

Megan Blocker

Megan Blocker

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There's a great poem about finding cold plums in the icebox by William Carlos Williams...

Also, "The Fish," by Elizabeth Bishop. I guess it's not really food poetry, since the fish in question is thrown back. But it's been one of my favorites ever since studying Bishop in high school.

Great thread idea!!!

"We had dry martinis; great wing-shaped glasses of perfumed fire, tangy as the early morning air." - Elaine Dundy, The Dud Avocado

Queenie Takes Manhattan

eG Foodblogs: 2006 - 2007

Carrot Top

Carrot Top

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And that poem by Rumi...*sigh* I wish someone would write something like that for me!  :wub:

:smile: I think Rumi is speaking of God, ling. I found the poem while reading on Sufi-ism.

But yes, how pleasant it would be to be so Goddess-like to think that those words could be personally taken. . .

highchef

highchef

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I guess 'beans, beans the magical fruit' is out. Sorry, I hear it a lot with all these guys around. They can't see a bean with out singing it.

edit: or see my sig at the bottom, one of my personal fav's!!

Edited by highchef (log)
JayBassin

JayBassin

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Depending on one's taste, I recommend William S. Gilbert's "Yarn of the Nancy Bell"

or Louis Carroll's "Walrus and the Carpenter"

Both contain actual recipes (sixth stanzas from the end of each poem).

Edited by JayBassin (log)
He who distinguishes the true savor of his food can never be a glutton; he who does not cannot be otherwise. --- Henry David Thoreau
Pan

Pan

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If we include drink, we increase the pool of poems exponentially. I've liked Jacques Prévert's Déjeuner du matin ever since I was taught that poem as an illustration of the passé composé. I guess it belongs here because of the title, but only coffee is mentioned, no food. You can read the poem (in the original French) on the upper left side of this page.

Michael aka "Pan"

 

Megan Blocker

Megan Blocker

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If we include drink, we increase the pool of poems exponentially.

Wouldn't that allow us to include everything Dylan Thomas ever wrote? :wink:

And that poem by Rumi...*sigh* I wish someone would write something like that for me!  :wub:

:smile: I think Rumi is speaking of God, ling. I found the poem while reading on Sufi-ism.

But yes, how pleasant it would be to be so Goddess-like to think that those words could be personally taken. . .

The Sufi mystics wrote some really beautiful poetry - I'd never heard this one, though. Great choice, Carrot Top! :rolleyes:

"We had dry martinis; great wing-shaped glasses of perfumed fire, tangy as the early morning air." - Elaine Dundy, The Dud Avocado

Queenie Takes Manhattan

eG Foodblogs: 2006 - 2007

Milagai

Milagai

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i don't think this is really poetry, but certainly

is speaks to the emotions and draws the most

beautiful word-pictures.

from the pillow book of sei shonagon:

29. Elegant Things:

A white coat worn over a violet waistcoat.

Duck eggs.

Shaved ice mixed with liana syrup and put in a new silver bowl.

A rosary of rock crystal.

Wisteria blossoms. Plum blossoms covered with snow.

A pretty child eating strawberries.

hmmm. does she mean only to look at, or is there

any eating involved?

milagai

Behemoth

Behemoth

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The poem is not about food at all but I've always loved these lines from Ted Hughes:

...Was it then I bought a peach? That's as I remember.

From a stall near Charring Cross Station

It was the first fresh peach I had ever tasted.

I could hardly believe how delicious.

At twenty-five I was dumbfounded afresh

By my ignorance of the simplest things.

Pontormo

Pontormo

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One of my favorites is from Act 2 in "Cyrano de Bergerac," set in the pastry shop of Ragueneau who declaims a recipe for almonds tarts in verse while the cooks surrounding him take advantage of his inspired distraction to stuff their faces.

The best modern translation by Richard Wilbur is not online, but:

http://teachers.sduhsd.k12.ca.us/jmabry/act_ii.htm

Edited by Pontormo (log)

"Viciousness in the kitchen.

The potatoes hiss." --Sylvia Plath

Pontormo

Pontormo

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And it's only fair since Ted Hughes is here:

LESBOS (excerpt)

---Sylvia Plath, from Ariel

Viciousness in the kitchen!

The potatoes hiss.

It is all Hollywood, windowless,

The fluorescent light wincing on and off like a terrible migraine...

"Viciousness in the kitchen.

The potatoes hiss." --Sylvia Plath

avocado

avocado

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Does Joni Mitchell count?

"Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning, and the first thing that I knew

There was milk and toast and honey and a bowl of oranges, too

And the sun poured in like butterscotch and stuck to all my senses

Oh, won’t you stay

We’ll put on the day

And we’ll talk in present tenses..."

I just love all the bright, sunny color imagery in this song- always have.

"It is impossible not to love someone who makes toast for you."

-Nigel Slater

zilla369

zilla369

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What a great thread!

I'm really enjoying the poems offered here. Unfortunately, we need to be aware of the eGullet.org Copyright and Fair Use Policy, which states, in part:

You may quote, with attribution (in the event that an online link is available, the link must be part of the citation), up to 100 words or 10% (whichever is less) of an off-site article, book, or other document. If it's 105 words, or 11%, don't sweat it -- we're asking primarily for good faith and sound judgment. If you want to quote much more than what we've specified as the allowable range, you must to take it upon yourself to secure permission from the owner of the copyright (in many cases, this is quite easy to do via a quick e-mail; in other cases it will be impossible and you therefore may not post the material).

Regrettably, I'm going to have to remove some of the posts that violate the policy. If your post has been removed, please feel free to re-post a few lines with a link to the full text elsewhere on the Web. Thanks in advance for understanding!

Marsha Lynch aka "zilla369"

Has anyone ever actually seen a bandit making out?

Uh-huh: just as I thought. Stereotyping.

srhcb

srhcb

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- (Leonard Cohen) says Suzanne "will feed you tea and oranges that come all the way from China".

SB (ok, so its technically a song ... :wink:

browniebaker

browniebaker

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. . . .

Say, is there Beauty yet to find?

And Certainty? and Quiet kind?

Deep meadows yet, for to forget

The lies, and truths, and pain? . . . oh! yet

Stands the Church clock at ten to three?

And is there honey still for tea?

Rupert Brooke

The Old Vicarage, Grantchester (1912)

Carrot Top

Carrot Top

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. . . .

Say, is there Beauty yet to find?

And Certainty? and Quiet kind?

Deep meadows yet, for to forget

The lies, and truths, and pain? . . . oh! yet

Stands the Church clock at ten to three?

And is there honey still for tea?

Rupert Brooke

The Old Vicarage, Grantchester (1912)

My God, can you feel the breaths expanding within yourself when you read this?!

And it is words. Just words.

Astonishing.

Pontormo

Pontormo

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A wonderful, wonderful poem by Billy Collins is found in his book The Art of Drowning (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsurgh Press, 1995). The following excerpt (113 words plus title) should make you hunger for more. See the link below for the full text, one that reminds you of the poem's copyrighted status.

OSSO BUCO

I love the sound of the bone against the plate

and the fortress-like look of it

lying before me in a moat of risotto,

the meat soft as the leg of an angel

who has lived a purely airborne existence.

And best of all, the secret marrow,

the invaded privacy of the animal

prized out with a knife and swallowed down

with cold, exhilarating wine.

I am swaying now in the hour after dinner,

a citizen tilted back on his chair,

a creature with a full stomach--

something you don't hear much about in poetry,

that sanctuary of hunger and deprivation....

The link to entire text:

Search Inside feature at Amazon.com, turning page once to "Osso Buco."

N.B.: a purchase from Amazon.com made directly from this site benefits egullet.

Edited by Pontormo (log)

"Viciousness in the kitchen.

The potatoes hiss." --Sylvia Plath

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