From a crowded shelf I choose
a white book, The Art of Cuisine,
private epicurean pleasures invented
by Toulouse-Lautrec with the zest
and measured simplicity of his Montmartre
bistro paintings, a culinary collection
embellished with fanciful menus
designed and decorated by the artist
in splashes of reds, grays, beige
can can dancers, nudes, clowns, minstrels,
game, furs, feathers, cigar smoking Mesdames,
and witty, exuberant Lautrec self-portraits.
From the index of gastronomic delights
I select Moules Marinieres, succulent mussels
from Calais, sautéed in dry vintage wine
and a delectable nut of butter
in large wrought iron saucepan without
a cover (insists Lautrec) seasoned
with just a touch of salt, a subtle taste of garlic,
garnished with chopped parsley, sprinkled
to taste with finely ground white pepper.
To the gourmand Lautrec, the art
of cooking, like painting, was the art
of living, as much an artistic creation
as a ballet, poem, or flaming erotic
rendezvous brushed by starlight,
cooled by soft whispers off the sea,
once savored, never forgotten.
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but you make everything into poetica. daily life, nightly tides, and even dusty shelves of nothing important. ..
you somehow make the mundane seem miraculous.
[sigh]
ness
Regis
Edwin
Myrna
Love,
Eileen
Biggg hugs, J'nia
A delicious write, may I have another serving? Well done!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
In Spirit,
Bear
love,
Christine
Be always safe,
Karen
This is all too much to digest before breakfast (Singapore time) but I'm trying. It's not just the recipe that excites, it's the entire atmosphere in the marvellous opening stanza - dash, energy, light, sound and those can can dancers, sacre bleu! - and the softer concluding stanza, sensual, erotic, artistic and the real breath of life, "once savored, never forgotten."
Bravo!
John