Ate peas porridge hot,
Ate peas porridge cold.
It tasted like snot,
It tasted real old.
On Mom's second shot,
It tasted like coal.
"I made a new pot,"
"So, have a hot bowl."
But, fresh gruel or not,
It smelled worse than skunks.
Put head over pot,
Blew peas porridge chunks.
in a large roasting pan combine
3 cups of aundoille or polish sausage bite sized
3 cups of peeled diced carrots
3 cups of peeled red bell peppers diced
1 cup of peeled diced sweet potatos
2 sprigs of thyme
2 sprigs of rosemary
8 cloves of garlic
1 cup of diced onion
1/2 cup of diced fennel bulb
1 teaspoon of turmeric powder
1 tablespoon of cayenne pepper
2 tablespoons of salt 1/2 cup of olive oil
bake 45 minute or unt fork tender
remove from oven remove rosemary and thyme
puree smooth.
in a large pot mix 5 cups of pork stock
1/4 cup of lime juice
2/3 cups of sweet marsala
2 cups of smashed cooked white beans
(potato masher with a sift and plunger)
1 cup of smashed cooked chickpeas
( use a mash potato masher with sift and plunger)
1 cup of heavy cream
1 cup of cream cheese
1/2 cup of parmesan cheese
bring to a boil and add pureed veggies
thicken with a slurry.
serve over rice with sliced roast pork and shrimp!
Or substitute pork broth and roast pork with chicken
and chicken broth.
serve with shrimp or by itself
The usual Halloween crews are climbing out of their crypts.
Easing into the clearing of the grave of an ogre named Mips.
Is it the gruel monster? Asks Babboto, an October witch.
It is, agrees Pumpkin head, a dissimulated guy with a twitch.
The two-fanged cat is there, staring as we try to raise the ghoul.
You are never going to get it done, yell the bats. They think they rule.
A rustling on the grave produces the grim reaper who is the worst.
I know when I see the gruel monster that tomorrow is November first.
add some oats to the pot
add some water add a lot
boil it boil it until it thins
than add more water
and boil it again
stir it and pour it into a bowl
add a pinch of allspice
eat it hot or cold
soupy and droopy to the touch
breakfast lunch and supper
a big bowl of mush
Sawed off iron
Has been lying
For a long time.
It's rusted
Like my life.
We look into each other's eyes
Neatly laid out on a stone
That is warm ,
Waiting again , for the rain .
A pot of stew.
Made with meat.
Meat and more meat.
I am hungry.
What is for dinner, mother?