cooking

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I will not complain, not one bit, about this stretch of persistent spring weather--65* to 75* every day for a week, although I know what it augurs.  As my daughter (aka The Future) says, we might as well enjoy it while Earth lasts.  So for now it's a slow cooking we're in....and in that spirit, on Friday morning I posted only the beginning of this InstaDraft TM. Saturday morning I'm finishing it off.




Allium, Part I

Am I onion? one large bulb
a single layered heart
ready to shed my
brittle paper jacket
ready to loosen membranes
fall into rings
tears springing easily
when cut

Or am I garlic? one fat clove
of the many pressed in
puzzlewise together
bound in a thin tight skin
like a head full of brain
whose barrier fights back
must be sliced
or crushed

Either way:
pliant snap of faintly green-white
wet sting, sticky
resistance of ivory ooze and bite--
either way,
into the hot pan,
in the puddle of melting butter
I land.

Allium Part II

I settle, I saute,
gently jumping in the fat.
Slow the sizzle
to a bubble.
Let me simmer,
edges golden browning,
softening, curling.  Sugar
overcomes sharpness,

slow roasting to striped
ribbons, ovals of savory scented
caramel sweetness.
I am reduced,
both destructed and created,
recreated. Onion  or garlic?
All I am
is cooked.


(c) HM 2017

*******
There--garnished and served up.Get it while it's hot.

The round-up today is with Karen at her shocking clever blog.  Run your roots on over to taste the beneficial sulfurs of today's posts.