I’m checking the time to discover if I’m
still here in this world… or the next.
I had a strange dream of a rather mad party,
where everyone’s hearty, garishly dressed
and no-one cares what the time really is!
It wasn’t the curmudgeonly Queen of Hearts,
who made the best tarts in the world;
it was you… you in your Aylesbury towers,
bestowed with legendary supernal powers;
with the touch of Midas and an aura of gold.
Borne from the seed of Theobroma Cacao,
and a sprinkling of crunchy insanity,
this is so… not ordinary cuisine!
But I followed the map to the treasure;
found the chest with its cargo of pleasure.
When the seal on the box was abused,
the aroma that my nostrils infused
was dispersed with supernatural force;
a galloping horse wouldn’t alter this dream
of sweet nasal candy that tilted my beam!
Ingredients, exceptionally ordinary things,
you can pluck from the shelf, any time,
but an invisible choir of angels sings,
transfiguring sweet chocolate and butter,
wheatflour and walnuts, cocoa and eggs…
…into a subliminal whole; an alchemy
that intoxicates every part of my soul;
inducing paroxysmal sensory excess,
unendurable joy, premature heaven;
Oh dear sweet Hestia, let me die now!
I would offer myself as a sacrifice
if only for one more palatal explosion;
an olfactory refrain from my culinary angel
and that prettily decorated large brown box,
with unseen invitation written on top
© 2011 John Anstie