Best Scallops Poems
Figs stuffed with proscuitto and mascarpone cheese,
a plate of bacon wrapped scallops and pineapple.
French onion soup is bound to please
or garlic steamed mussels with which to grapple.
Artichoke hearts smothered in sherried cream;
pears with sugar and cinnamon in butter sauteed;
pork tenderloin medallions make a demi-glaced dream
while crisped lyonnaised potatoes are made.
Now with a sip of Pouilly-Fuisse'
tastes flush the palate like a gourmet concert.
A toast to good friends on this wonderful day
as ice wine chills to serve with dessert.
A plate of old fashioned Bananas Foster-
perhaps in the morning, eggs benedict with lobster!
A surly old maid
had an urge to be laid
and bemoaned her virginal status
with life discontented
her plight she lamented:
"'tis not easy to live without coitus."
A scheme she invented
got polished and scented
tweaked her pointers to swing more voluptuous
with a rose-scented blanket
and aphrodisiac banquet
whisked her beau to the beach to be fructuous
Clad in scant mini
whence peeked her bikini
bent on bidding her cherry adieu
purred words mildly profane
wined him champagne
dined him fare with venereal value
To hone his libido
entrèed on baked avo
oysters, scallops and honey-glazed almond
lips enticingly luscious
sucked asparagus
sneaked a look if what matters had hardened
As was he, she became cocky:
ogled what was now stocky
with no inhibition she fussed and she flirted
our virgin opened her mouth
with one hand down south
loosened a knot and lay there unskirted
Decidedly heady
her lover was ready
to pick her rosebud unsoiled hitherto
her lush lips he fingered
where he lovingly lingered
to prepare for their kissing debut
With a bolt sat upright
said, his voice somewhat tight:
"Your mouth is a pit of infection.
I swear I was keen
but your mouth lacks hygiene
foul breath made me lose my ********."
I.
End-Cut Prime Rib of Beef,
Crab-cake, Lobster Tail,
Sea Scallops.
I feel — no — need to,
eat those foods
you asked I get you.
So I scour the internet
for upscale Manhattan
restaurant menus, listing,
first and foremost,
roast prime rib of beef,
confident, if I find that,
the seafood items
will appear on at least one
of them, also.
It’s the Post House,
on East 63rd Street,
that has everything.
And, on this day,
the 1st anniversary
of your death,
I’m eating the foods
you craved, yet, I do not
savor a morsel. But
not to worry, Renee,
for next year, same
date, I’ll try again, and
maybe, just maybe,
I’ll find it easier to enjoy
what you surely would have,
if only I’d realized there was
no time left. No time left,
as I held your hand and
watched American Idol.
while you morphed into what-
ever it is one becomes
at death.
II.
I muse if Robert Frost
had taken the other road,
would he have moved to
England, where
his poetry was a hit
from the get-go;
would he have remained,
the constant farmer, or
teacher, or journalist
he been, rather than
the bard who'd crafted
the simplest words
into mysterious,
memorable poems;
and the father who
couldn’t prevent
his children’s deaths;
not the husband
who couldn’t keep
his wife from sinking
deep into depression.
Renee, every day, since
your death, I think about
what I could’ve done
and should not have done
as your sister, your twin.
How I’d sat on my laurels
and let you navigate
on your own, with me
never wholeheartedly
trying to steer away
from conflict with you.
Me, who found it too hard
staying involved in that life
of yours. Truth be told,
if I'd seen two diverging roads
to choose from, way back when
— neither the worse for wear,
I would’ve sought you out —
asked you which one you’d take
if you were me, and surely
I’d have taken the other.
Chef 's Winter dishes are simply delicious, not too much oil or cream.
Rich or plain, taste tested to perfection, tiny portions sometimes steamed
He starts the day with freshly squeezed orange juice,coffee and toast.
And embarks on a fitness journey along the seaside in Adelaide.
Today he is going to create a seafood bisque inspired by his walk.
This morning whilst walking along the beach he noticed the outgoing
Tide and outlet left a long groove with definite honeycombe indentations
snaking parallel to the shore for a distance near a giant swirly starfish.
From an aerial perspective it looked like a Christo dragon , hardened ripples
representing the scales and the sometimes swirling patterns here and there
where the giant Sea-dragon moved, slithered or shifted about in the sand .
The Sea-Dragon must have laid there for some time before he disappeared
as his scales were deeply impressed and clearly embossed in the firm sand.
A clear body of water flowed in the center of this outlet echoing the scales
shimmering and gleaming with sunlight smoothly on the groove's surface.
Upon seeing this ,Chef etched it in his memory and began to mentally gather
ingredients for his creation.How could he give his bisque the dragon flavour?
Grilling the whiting, prawns and scallops with butter laced with honey , chilli,
cardamon + crushed nuts , garlic, a dash of brandy.......
then adding chicken stock , lime , thyme ,cracked pepper , rock sea salt and
finally pureeing the lot with a splash of coconut milk.
I wanna spread you thin,
creamy, on a bagel
toasted
fresh
hot
savor each bite
lick you off -
my fingers
the corner of my mouth…
I’ll leave a bit to make you laugh.
Save it for later
I’ll say it’s a snack
if I get hungry before I get back
I wanna sauté you in garlic
…with peppers - hot
salt..
cheese..
the flavor in oil
infuse with your leaves
over a salad.. inside a soup
tomatoes
red onions
brown rice.. a scoop
not to dilute
or over power
the taste of your skin
lightly
dusted in flour
sizzle and pop
drizzle a dop
I’d make you a doughnut
if I were a cop
or better yet
I think an éclair
cream in the middle
squeeze you right there
in a coffee cup
some on my chin
lick it off
…and squeeze you again
I wanna bake you in broth
400 degrees
wine
sauce
caper goat cheese
stuff you with seafood
potatoes
brie
serve you with scallops
fresh from the sea.
reduce you to thickened,
sauce made with cream
jiggle your gravy
poach you and steam
fry you in butter
sugar your spleen!
I’m stuffed...your love
feast for a king
Sautéed scallops on the skirts of Italy
Debutantes of a chardonnay shimmy
Mediterranean terraces of broached stars
Gucci wallets moonlighting baroque hearts
Manolo Blahnik legs lavishly luring
High heel sculptures of effusive Etruscan art
Olive ties stirring perfumed Sicilian thighs
Inhaling fragrant glasses of jasmine jet eyes
Rosy secrets saturating burning blotted lips
Fiery fertile plumes of Pompeii's fresco kiss
Vesuvian silence preening suave sable hair
Folded napkins of toasted Venetian affairs
Miss Ocean wears her blue-green dress,
Sprinkled with tiny crystals beads
That sparkle in the morning sun.
She shakes her ruffled petticoats of white
And shows off for the passers-by.
She dances on the jetty rocks
With seaweed hair that streams behind
Before she dips her head again
And swims far out to greater depths
To play with dolphins, whales, and fish
And mermaids in their hidden lairs.
She sweeps the ocean floor and brings
Her treasures to the sandy shore,
A trove of scallops, slipper shells and
Mussels clinging tightly to the kelp.
Empty conch shells, pink and clean,
Pearly stones and worn green glass.
Miss Ocean wears her blue-green dress
Embroidered with tiny crystal beads.
They sparkle in the morning sun.
Flaming steaks and ice cold drinks
you thought good food had become extinct
until you ate here and gave us a nod and a wink.
Appetizers galore with soft stringy cheese sticks, artichoke hearts deep fried
with a taste of parmesan cheese and a dip to please.
bacon wrapped shrimp you might want to frame, seared sea scallops that
make you want to gallop, stuff mushrooms that'll make you croon, escargot
and baked claims as you eat them you'll definitely leave a stain
Ice burg lettuce or romaine with fresh dressing all homemade.
Lobster bisque soup with a deep rich taste if you don't like
seafood try Tomato bisque instead, French onion soup either a bowel
or cup just don't be a glut.
Your auntre is about to start your just warming up
hot garlic bread with a wonderful spread, Chris's secret recipe if he
told you how he made it you'd be dead.
Succulent steaks porterhouse, ribeye, serlion, T-bone and of course filet
add garlic or lemon butter to dip, 'hooray!'
Chicken flew by giving you legs and wings deep fried
want a little less oil try the fresh grilled chicken
fit for a royal.
Hamburger, cheeseburger just choose your cheese and of course
add bacon please. Want an egg on top sunny side up
when you squeeze the bun it will definitely erupt.
The beef is so fresh the cows stopped mooing when
it hit the grill with no sign of stress.
Vegetable melody or a little broccoli please.
The potato why so many things I can do
baked, French fried, homefried or even mashed
some round or shaped like a torpedo.
Baked fish Talapia, Flounder or even Sea Bass
'Oh' so fresh. We have an aquarium in the back,
just teasing we use a pole and bait at our near by lake.
End the evening as you sit back with a luscious sweet dessert
but please don't drool bibs are provided if needed
or even a paper sack on your way out.
Just remember as my Daddy always said,
'You all come back now you hear, friends are like family
and we hold you all dear!'
Coming Soon: The new "Fire and Ice Grill and Pub"
T Reams
He wanted to go and catch scallops
gets into a boat called a shallops*
He didn’t look at the time
And had committed a crime
It’s into the court he now gallops
Five thousand pounds he’s now got to pay
A ‘timely’ error on the said day
This ‘scallop advisor’
Just should have been wiser
This fishy story won’t go away!
Poem based rather ironically on a TRUE story in the Manx press today
http://www.manxradio.com/news/isle-of-man-news/scallop-advisor-fined-for-illegal-fishing
*a little poetic licence about his boat but a Shallops is a sailing boat used for coastal fishing
15th January 2018
Walking along the ocean shore
Kicking up the golden sand
I feel the warmth of the rising sun
On the back of my freckled hand
The willet and the sandpiper
Dash into the approaching waves
As the sand crabs and quahogs
Burrow down, hidden away
Sea weed and sea grass
Are washed into the beach
Holding scallops for the shore birds
And for the sand fleas, a feast
Flying high above
A seagull takes a hungry look
A brown pelican suddenly dives past him
Knocking him for a loop
Young families on brightly colored blankets
Blow up beach balls and remove their shoes
Children jump over the white crested waves
While a surfer dives her way through
Sunscreen on tiny little bodies
Hats on round little heads
Sunburn is not an ocean treasure
When little ones go to bed
Plastic pails and shovels
Are carried across the golden sand
Dreams of sandcastles and moats
Become shapes under little hands
The life guard stands in his tower
Binoculars in his hand
Watching surfers and swimmers,
And those safely on the land
He is able to see in the water
Things others do not know
Rip currents and rough waves
Keep him constantly on his toes
The pier is in a distance
Waves crashing underneath
Crusted with mollusks and barnacles
It is no place for bare feet
Along the pier overhead
Are fishing poles and chairs
Fishermen casting for dinner
While fishing stories they share
The afternoon sun rises higher
The wind dies down a bit
Surfers come into shore
Their bodies lean and fit
Off in the far horizon
A small sloop glides quickly by
The wind filling its red sails
Speed causing the bow to rise
A cabin cruiser motors past
Fifty feet long at least
A party on board and a dingy behind
The guests are in for a treat
It isn’t the incandescence that bothers me
It’s that anyway you spin the arrow,
Whatever goal or mission or path you undertake,
They’re all correct.
The full force of your efforts is all that matters.
A congress of pelicans came to dinner last night
While I swung scallops at the High Mistress.
The miasma! My asthma!
You’ve driven me right down Knucklehead Lane now.
My knee hurts. I should’ve taken Hertz and
Let the engine roar up into a God-awful thunder.
Jumping in and out of mosques.
Carrying news I can't interpret.
Practicing silliness under the cupboard,
Beside the space that has no name.
I am that space with a wicked haughtiness.
I am also however lofty I dare my balloon to rise,
Navigating my own slim spool.
Dr. Thumbopolis is ready for me now.
Time to stop writing.
Don’t dare bring this back to “incandescence.”
(You horrible hack.)
What bothers you if not the flooding light
Busting through baseboards, then?
Go on. Answer.
shrimp and scallops plate
a lot of cheddar biscuits
tall glass of iced tea
It can't have been the scallops
Or the rump of Islay lamb,
Washed down with white Rioja
Followed by sweet meringue.
It wasn't the skate au poivre
Or smoked salmon canapes
Nor garlic stuffed green olives
Or the double chocolate glaze.
The ruby red barolo
Is surely not to blame
(It was so very very good,
We had some more of the same).
The piquant piccalilli
That came with the ham terrine
Was absolutely to die for,
In French, "Cuisine Sublime".
The roasted veg in garlic,
The rich redcurrant sauce,
All perfectly delicious -
And then we passed the port.
Replete, we left the table
Of coffee to partake,
With a couple of Glenlivets
To sup for old times' sake.
A perfect evening, then off to bed
To dream of happy days.
'Twas not to be, a sudden waking
With a screeching shout of pain,
The hounds of hell were gnawing
At a foot now sore inflamed
And throbbing, throbbing, throbbing,
In purgatory now moaning,
In agony exclaiming,as,
Tormented, he writhes about,
"Must be a change in the weather
Has caused this devilish gout !"
onions
garlic
fine white win
butternut
squash
quince and mince
leek
scallops
clotted cream
turkey stuffed
pastry puffed
chives give hives
people gaseous
pissed
nauseous
happy holidays to all
Silken skies surround
Secure sailing sloop
Skimming Sargasso sea
Seeking salmon, sturgeon,
Shrimp, scallops;
Several savory species.
Suddenly stampeding storm
Surrounded, struck swiftly
Skies striking, slashing,
Savage surly seas.
Skipper sighted shoals,
Slammed, sending seamen
Swaying, scrambling, scurrying.
Swift southerly swells,
Sending struggling schooner
Smashed somewhere sandy shores.
Seamen survived swimming,
Suddenly savage screams,
Strange sensations, sounds
Seldom saw such sights,
Surrounding sassy Sasquatch.
Savagely slashed sailor,
Satisfyingly strange supper
Sasquatch slurping sailor soup,
Savory sauce, stew.