Side Dish Sapiens
We are baked beans.
I have known this for some time:
we contain the caramel of sugar,
the vindictiveness of vinegar,
the mess of molasses,
the mirth of mustard,
and the various cultural spices
of our regional forefathers.
Then there is the bacon.
Specs not readily seen
like birthdays, Thanksgiving
and fireworks on July 4th.
Finally, there is the day to day
of secret ingredient tomato sauce
that flavors each day
and make us who we are.
Your Mother’s Meatloaf
It has to be a mixture of beef and pork.
The exact proportion closely guarded.
While we don’t have lies between us,
we do have secrets.
The mixture of spice varies with your mood
and while you know I don’t like turmeric
you are immune to changes.
It must be shaped by hand; no loaf pan.
I have always adored your touch.
Browned in a cast iron skillet-
both sides.
The skillet was a wedding present from your mother.
Then the tomato soup and stewed tomatoes -
never tomato sauce.
Add the sliced green- not red- peppers.
Cover and simmer until cooked through.
No time factor -it is an olfactory trait
I relish after all these years together.
R. Gerry Fabian is a published poet from Doylestown, PA. He has published five books of poetry: Parallels, Coming Out Of The Atlantic, Electronic Forecasts, Wildflower Women as well as his poetry baseball book, Ball On The Mound.
We are baked beans.
I have known this for some time:
we contain the caramel of sugar,
the vindictiveness of vinegar,
the mess of molasses,
the mirth of mustard,
and the various cultural spices
of our regional forefathers.
Then there is the bacon.
Specs not readily seen
like birthdays, Thanksgiving
and fireworks on July 4th.
Finally, there is the day to day
of secret ingredient tomato sauce
that flavors each day
and make us who we are.
Your Mother’s Meatloaf
It has to be a mixture of beef and pork.
The exact proportion closely guarded.
While we don’t have lies between us,
we do have secrets.
The mixture of spice varies with your mood
and while you know I don’t like turmeric
you are immune to changes.
It must be shaped by hand; no loaf pan.
I have always adored your touch.
Browned in a cast iron skillet-
both sides.
The skillet was a wedding present from your mother.
Then the tomato soup and stewed tomatoes -
never tomato sauce.
Add the sliced green- not red- peppers.
Cover and simmer until cooked through.
No time factor -it is an olfactory trait
I relish after all these years together.
R. Gerry Fabian is a published poet from Doylestown, PA. He has published five books of poetry: Parallels, Coming Out Of The Atlantic, Electronic Forecasts, Wildflower Women as well as his poetry baseball book, Ball On The Mound.
