Taste Buds--

The hot room with its high, doily-covered dressers

their mute, framed faces staring down at me

Men in priestly robes, solemn black cassocks

showing me where my gene pool ended

in that small corner of the Old World…scattered sterile seeds

lost in cavernous dark seminaries

An ice box in the corner

drip pan beneath

sparse provisions within

All the rest victims of the hot room with

its thick drawn drapery

Hard cheeses, sour auras redolent when you’re near,

wrapped in cheesecloth, aging in the open air,

flagons of wine

and a viscous green oil that would take years

for my American palate to love.

My grandparents muttering

in their strange and fluid tongue

urging me to mangia.

I was too thin–“Fagiole!”

The salad of crisp green--

cool, ignoring the August day–

greens and orange slices.

My little face cries silently at the first taste--

why did they douse it like that?

I liked olives–if they were pitted...

and dyed black, and swimming in a can

under murky salty water.

But this green oil my nana doused the salad with

was from no olive I knew.

And with the black pepper too!

The oranges were spoiled for me.

Bitter and sweet, bitter and sweet.

Why did the old people mix bitter with life’s joys?

I would not mangia,

me, with taste buds

not yet born into the flavors of my people.

and on a lighter note...

Chef-Boy Artie’s Gourmet Tip of the Day

(first, pour yourself a glass of wine…)

One should never combine

a pretzel

with a clementine

It makes no sense

Some things just don’t go

Such mistakes are immense

There are textural paradoxes

or so it seems

And there’s yin and there’s yang, you opine

But, once again--even in your dreams--

pretzels with clementines are not meant

to combine.

[Yes, have another glass of wine.]

Why would you ever

put mustard on a rose?

Why would you tempt

a wasp with your nose?

Cooks can be clever

and cooks can be wise

looking for ways

to increase your waist size--

but if one ever comes up with

Clementine-imbued Pret-ZEL

do yourself a favor

and bid him farewell.

--art gatti,

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