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Tuesday 11 September 2018

Low cuisine

Orphans of the kitchen,
They toil and may even spin,
Metaphorically,
Then are cast freely aside.
An end without glory,
Amen


Dish-cloth.* Possibly infectious, definitely grey - eternally grey, lying boneless in the sink. That may be grease within its unspeakable folds. On the shelf in the supermarket it is fluffily white and sports embroidered red stitches along one of its borders. Expecting culinary gaiety it finds itself wedded to mess and detritus, mourns and is despisèd.
* Happy to confirm this is not VR's dish-cloth.

Roasting pan. What a fall is here, my brethren. At first the parfit gentil knight, in blue-ish mild-steel contours, courageously functional, subservient servant to a shoulder of lamb in the oven's inferno. More comically, Yorkshire pudding. Years pass and what's this blackened, crusted, misshapen trough? - perhaps its own sarcophagus.

The knife hardly anyone uses. Divorced in its youth from the steel it has descended into uselessness and then become simply a burden. Last cut something - a carrot at that! - five years ago. More recently, it tore futilely at a raw chicken drumstick. Were there an open fire it might have seen out its days as a poker. But flames these days are confined to boilers.

Eggcup. Bought for its Mrs Tiggiwinkle decoration, it now cups only dust. Too small even for a bantam's egg, while that of a quail would seem ridiculous. Made of china and therefore potentially frangible. Alas, its owner's secret wishes have never been granted. The Beatrix Potter collection was absorbed in a boot sale.

Loose knob on the unused lid of the wok. Which will, nevertheless, bring the grey hairs of its owner down with sorrow to the grave. Stare at it long enough, he swears,  and it rotates.

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7 comments:

  1. Good grief, that was a lot of very private information. Not sure I'd eat a meal cooked there.

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  2. Oh, I would, Sabine, and gladly.

    Robbie, this was wonderful! Eloquent, compassionate, highly evocative, most images familiar from my own home setting. Poetic.

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  3. Sabine: The penalty of living in Germany, second-best home to fine plumbing in the world (after Switzerland). So many destinations are closed to you. At least grant me that the subject and, I hope, the style were original.

    Crow: This is a new admission and I have a fondness for your admissions. Remember the one about soldering with accompanying photo? Great stuff from someone who lives in the country where Sir Kenneth Clarke's world-renowned TV series "Civilisation" was criticised on the basis of the author/presenter's orthodontics

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  4. First word typo. Thought it might be French, but couldn't find it.

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  5. MikeM: Thanks. An errant r. But might the tone be a little friendlier? And/or more discursive?

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  6. Busy day. Roofing. Home for lunch. Love ya.

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  7. MikeM: Bravo! Bravissimo! Bravississimo! Eight words, beautifully chosen and expertly deployed. I keep on forgetting there are working stiffs out there, not all are enjoying the luxury of gently decaying at home at the extreme end of the life expectancy chart.

    And you've given me an idea for a post. It's gonna be a good day.

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