A tin labeled tomato,
a tired, hungry man.
Novice cook with a ladle
and a fresh opened can.
He gave me the spoon,
poured the milk out to measure,
stepped back from the stove,
"Now, it's your turn, my treasure."
"Mix the milk in real slow,
you stir and don't stop
till the bubbles you see
dance around on the top."
Well, I stirred and I stirred.
Now, don't let it burn!
It was steamy and creamy,
this lesson I learned.
He came back fresh showered
from the soil and the sun.
I had cooked for my daddy.
His heart I had won.
This day's prompt was to cook up a poem with a recipe in it. My contribution is my ten year old self trying to feed my father farmer something to eat as my mom was sick in bed.
For more in the flavor:http://magalyguerrero.com/finger-licking-good/
Wow! This is great. Creamy tomato soup is almost as good as this poem! Good fun. :-)
ReplyDeleteThank you, Elena! It is a really vivd memory for me!
ReplyDeleteThis reminds me of my kids when they are in the kitchen with their dad. My daughter was quite proud of her first scrambled eggs. Very sweet.
ReplyDeleteOh, they are making great memories together! They will always treasure those! Thanks!
DeleteAwww, this is so precious! Reminds me making tomato soup for my mom and I have to tell you, I still make it for her ;o)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Stacy! It is a special memory!
DeleteHow can something salty and creamy be sooo adorably sweet? I saw that little girl, worried about messing up but happy to be trusted (perhaps standing on a step stool, in order to reach the stove)... cooking for anyone we love is such a joy, cooking for a daddy we love, is a miracle! ♥
ReplyDeleteIt is a memory I cherish!
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