Take A Bite

I'm so hungry for this guy, even his shoe leather would taste good right now...

This is a tribute to Anthony Bourdain. A very rough draft, but revised once since I posted on Jessie Carty's Make Friday Write.

Acid Notes Of Parsley And Paramount

       There was a time, before my career as a chef

       when teeth were barred on gravel and grit

       prairie wild, and wild game guesses

       boots didn’t slide so well

       and  the back of a spoon...meant lessons learned

       adventure was only a dream; then...

Bourdain rides into wide angle lenses

smoking hot, off death row requests

with back stage laughter and cooling engines 

still left gunning

to fulfill a wish, ‘live as an Englishman’

where protestant notions collect  

kindling abroad those traditional fires

questions surrounded slippery rims

as menus begin flying over courtyards

the simple answers are seasonally deep fried

after crawling back from an abyss

cross over stardom is the password

guns are cocked as the crew circle spits

word for word notions fly hungry above

scenes from the other side knock down back doors

trains never fail- rolling in with supplies in hand

blood cake comes out warm and under temp

unborn chicks slide in over easy

and are served in a sea of guilty pleasure

always floating on top with skirts jacked high

to ease slow rides downtown

pressure mounts as “chef is a cold man” death whispers

beaten and cramping and changing the days cuisine

a sprinkle of parsley is thrown and soars high

refreshing over the shoulder wishes

landing on everything left in his wake.

If you have no idea who 'Bourdain' is, well then...you get No Reservations!

I want this to go somewhere and not sure I like some of the angles...

Okay your turn to speak...

Culinary Passion

One of my 'new' writing pass times for the past year is Food Poetry. I an featured on Crop To Cuisine radio program out of Boulder Colorado. Last poem they featured along with a show about Fair Trade and Organic Coffee was my poem 'Barrista'. One day I will do a chapbook of my food poems.

Often it is from passion inspiration, an instantaneous moment of taste bud delight that I write something of this nature. If I ponder too much, the words just take too long to come and I am fickle. My father said it, and he was right.

Well taking a day off from being a tourista, I set my sights on room service, and writing. Of course when I let the urge to order something not planned, but with, and always a quest to find something out- I asked room service if the kitchen could share a secret...here is what happened!

PS- I will post the photo I took in a few days...to see if I conquered poetically...turns out I will be on the road the next few days, so I am adding the photo now...

Bravas!

One by one
five finger slaves take hold

prehistoric- Iberian statuesque mound
Within the eyesight of Toledo hillside

subtle orange-red sky line
blankets history marries cocina-archy

Holy grails, piquant lava spill
stain, sting the soul as it goes down

Archeological finds have been greater
Culinary discovery in due course worth more

than geological religion
10,000 years of cultivated existence co-exist

In common russet shaped craft
traveling shore to shore today

Ceasar Pollo at my side
Porcelain fortresses had no chance

- Chef E

Birds Of Prey

I know I posted a similar photo some time ago, but I have a more suited poem for it now- Thanks to my poet friend Bryan who posted this poem called 'Gluttony'-

Past images of 'Gluttony', my mothers banana pudding
so sweet, finger licking goodness, over ripe fruit

Pyrex is a sitting duck on morning table
signals 'CAW CAW' ring out, run! she is

lurking, perched, ready to swoop down
scold you for eating too much

of what she herself will, has
gorged upon, no evidence seen- like vultures

who wait for their road kill,
kids unaware playing in life streets-

Mother birds with light sensitive squinty eyes
like Great Owls who perch,

on the wing Griffon- behind waiting doors,
waiting for prey, their

children who fall, stumble into sticky
situations; even when unwanted

the hunter swoops down
stage light shadow interrogations

rapere- pecking bloody mar and damage
uncontrollable urges to swallow their children

whole, a consumption, uncontrolled rage from
memories of bigger prey, wounds licked,

time forgotten; their own turn tail
Makeshift marauders on a hunt

With time, evolution -
creates new world keen sense of vision

tall tail love birds, mating for life
building nests from scraps left to fate

learning to let their babies fall, diversify
the nest, fending for themselves-

surviving on lessons learned, natural
selection skill, heartfelt feathery comforting.

© E Stelling 2010

Muse Monday 17- Voyeur

If you have ever worked in a professional kitchen environment, then you can relate to this rap piece I perform

Health Food Café
‘Kitchen Rant’

Morning drains, smell like sewage and shit
Scented candles, burn… surreal relief
pantry shelves filled with clutterenters the store police
she moves through door... the store... my mind
Preemptive remarks sounding like mutter.

(sing with rhythm )
   move the pans to the top
   from underneath the pots
   bare cabinets now leave
   wasted space to heave
   sweep up with the mop
   sling food around the juicer

Its m u s i c and n o i s e
Carrot, beet, celery, and apple hip hop

Front door opens, smiling faces
at any cost all ready to share
some check out today’s menubuying food products to repair

(sing with rhythm)
   maple salmon, BBQ beef, fake meats
   Caribbean grits, 3 kinds of soup
   salads of all kinds….
   carrot apple raisin, apple slaw
   crunchy raw brownies to finish it all

Lets regroup… purely all healthy cuisine

Here nor there… so what’s a little disorder
As long as we roll and bounce
Through the days short mortars
Sweeping around the change
Our work feeds the soul
Merits of this and that
With little technique, just more cooperative ingredients
But Monmouth of grief if not obedient
Covering and disguising what’s really going on…

(sing with rhythm)
   high rent and bad location, location, location
   too many chairs and not enough tables
   damn to no oven and no menu fabrications

What’s good is the food, company present, and regular creations
Counter space seating, and talk of the nation
To the end of the day, dishes piled high
Food splattered aprons, needy floors and counters

All good, because 'I' just let sleeping dogs lie.

- E, 2008 ©

Waiting

Thirty five thousand, seventeen days
have passed since a world changed, a

plate of cheese fighting the elements, moved
to a heavier plate. The pretty orange one

whose chip became a crack, left
broken lying next to unwashed

shriveling grapes on un-kept counter
while worms eat through to the core of

waiting granny smith apples in a dusty
fruit basket: once, shiny and green before

decay and gray matter took over. There
is a chance life can be revived with tears

life springs running over the edge of vessels
here and there on the floor-

a house; a home, left to nature, to chance
in torrential storms, or over flow-

of a sink full of dirty dishes
sitting under a ticking clock

hanging next to this years calendar.

© E Stelling

Difficulties mastered are opportunities won- Winston Churchill

Food Porn & Other Related Topics

“You must do the thing you think you cannot do”

Eleanor Roosevelt

1) A second poem was accepted by a local publication; it will come out in this Wednesday's 'Wild Table' section of Wild River Review. A Photo Muse of inspiration from a few Food Porn shots taken by a fellow reveler of culinary arts...


Ed's Lobster Review, by Warren Bobrow, Wild River Review

I will post the link as soon as he sends it to me. I can also hook any poets up with them, if you are interested in sending work in. 

2) Also, I am very excited about a new project- West Windsor is in the midst of building their new arts center in the Historic Fire House, WW, NJ...I had begun to attend and joined the committee months ago- their mission was to begin building their arts program via local talent. They keep having meetings on Tuesday. I told Diane that I would regrettably not be able to make the meetings, but really wanted to be a part of this project, since I head up Open Mics in my area and really need to be actively involved. I stepped down from my position on the council in an email to the director.

She wrote me back last week-

Elizabeth,

I know Tuesdays are bad for you. Would you be interested in heading a
committee for open mic nights?

Thanks,

Diane Ciccone

Mission Accomplished!!! This is what I wanted when I joined WWAC, somebody's got to look out for the Open Mic talent, and why not me! I began Tuesday, I know I know, I forgo a Grover's Mill early reading, signed up, ran to WWAC, and then back to Grovers Mill for a late reading of some Texas poetry I have written- will post that video soon. Phew!

PS- Dianne, and all you other WWAC people, I would hope you remembered I catered your little soiree last year for free, and worked my tail off! So Thank You for the opportunity...Karma Baby, Karma!

3) I have been contacted by Wild River, they have said they are interested in publishing my first chapbook. Will see what happens.

4) Wild River is also in the process of working with me to do public appearances/readings from their published writers/poets in the area; in my new restaurant connection, since I have use of the whole upstairs in part of my arrangement as their consultant/event planner. This is exciting for me, because it means I can bring more open mic exposure for writers/poets outside of the coffee houses that have time contraints. The other open mics I run are predominately musicians.

A different kind of Muse Monday

The reason? I cannot sleep. I hear beeping. Like yeah! because the snow plows in our neighborhood development are backing up! They woke up the darn roosters here in farmland central Jersey. What crazy person is out before dark, and in their way? Oh yeah, those crazy early morning, who cares if it is freezing and snow is on the ground serious type of marathon runners!

It is Super Bowl Sunday, so I looked for blog posts to read. Blueviolet makes me laugh. So does Bagman.

I need a good laugh right now.I keep thinking about the video I have to shoot today.

So, I could not sleep anyway. Not nerves, but that is how I work. Notes. Notes. Notes. To get it all right. I talked with my chef friend in Atlanta yesterday. She has done television many times before, so she gave me some tips. I have done local Dallas news food prep television a few times, but sat in the background. Never in front of the camera. No one even knew I did the food. The darn Dietitian got the credit for the five stages of cooking the food I dragged in at 4 AM. Oh well, hubby, friends, and I know. Oh yeah, I have the video.

Been working on my new website for my new business venture with Adrienne. Got the temporary website up. We set up shop in our office/kitchen space last week, and finalized how it will all roll. So lots to do and think about. I decided that the best way to roll with the sorry economy in the food business is to recreate a new arm of my business. Stay busy. Busy. Busy. I am sure I will never retire. Also, I have to keep paying for the vacations I love to take all the time. My money tree in the back yard got blight with the tomatoes. Darn blight!

Been writing lots of new poetry, and flash fiction. Sending out work. Reading lit magazines and studying poetry form. So much for my boring life. How is yours?

Hubby came home from his trip safely before the snow hit, and I finally got some of the kids photos put on a disk. It took me ten years to want to look at photos of Anelisa. Sure they sit around the condo on shelves, but she in in my mind, my dreams, and that has been enough. Lots of dreams lately. I shared with Bagman that I had a dream I was running.

Yes. Running. Like the kind where I am in shorts and a t-shirt, and I have my New Balance shoes on! I used to bike 20 miles a day. Run every other day. Play racket ball, and swim any chance I could. I ran two businesses, and had the body of...well, I did not know what I had until I gained weight. I am not giving up believe me! No quitter lives in this body! The last ten years just took more out of me than I ever had to deal with before. When I woke up from the running dream the other night...I fell off the bed. I told Bagman that I woke up and felt refreshed. So if I can run in my mind. I can still run.

I hope no parent out there ever has to go through with what I did for fourteen years of my life. Then another ten without her.

Man, did she have skinny legs! So did Aaron. Runs in the family. They used to call me bean pole with chicken legs. Go ahead and laugh, I am.

Oh this is a good one. Miss Priss (yeah, she did not get that from me), and Mr. Rawhide. Yep, he went through his cowboy phase. Dad would not let him have toy guns though. I had a good laugh when he began running around shooting with his fingers. He showed his dad! Then he went through his 'Bono' phase. He saw me watching U2 Rattle and Hum video, and began mimicking singing with his pretend microphone.

Yep, I was a hairdresser, free thinking seventies woman, and said "Yes, you can grow your beautiful blonde locks to your rear end". Well, I have that pic somewhere, and he is already mad at me for posting these on facebook, so just use your imagination for now. A few years later he  began to play soccer, well that took care of the hair in a pony tail phase. His friends told him he looked like a girl, and he asked me to cut it off. So I did.

Then many years later he came home with a dragon tattoo on his chest that goes down his arm. Yep, they do that. But, when he came home to visit the year before last. He turned 21, and had a new tattoo. This time it was his sisters name on his wrist, along with her birthday, and the day she passed.

We took walks when I was visiting him this past month. We talk about how he runs. One day I will run along side him like we used to do together when he was younger in these pictures.

Baby steps is what I have had to take for now, and I am going to go take a few now, and load up my car.

Enjoy your day. Smile. Wave at someone, and enjoy the pics of my babies.

I did, when I finally dusted off the box, and looked at each one. I cried, but it was tears of joy.

Oh, and Bagman, thanks for the inspiration of this weeks 'Muse Monday'!

'Juicy' Aftermath

‘Juicy’ by Rebecca Haegele

Obsession’ably Orange

Fingers caress
Dimpled beauty
Tainting oil for oil
Fragrance faint
Zester’s flavor dreams
Peeled back
Revealing more, than
Just a heart, a slice,
sections
lips do seek
Each taste
Each kiss
Sweeter than the last
Here for
only moments
Juice felt fast
Sticky aftermath
Often, ‘blood’ is spilt
Wasted life, recipes
spent; fleeting stains
will not remain
Cravings cast
upon moments, daze,
until presence; its
gaze. Speaking
memory, passion
set ablaze...

Give in, take the
chance, have your
slice, wild ways
wild bites, heed
my warnings
Obsession will strike!

© Written by, E Stelling, 2010

All poetry, and photography cannot be duplicated without permission by the blog author, and or photographer via elizabeth@cookappeal.com, Thank you

Southern Flavor

[Photo taken above and below is property of E Stelling, author of this website]

I have been submitting my poetry into literary magazines, and got a response from a local publication. They published this poem yesterday. I cannot scan the publication, but here is how the page looks. I got a whole page!

The poetry of Elizabeth Stelling caught my attention immediately.

She is a poet, but not the poetry that I’m familiar with.  Elizabeth makes food taste better… she cooks with her spoken words.  Her voice, full of the inflections that say “The South” churn like butter from sweet cream to my ears.  I needed to hear more.

I hoped that Wild River Review would be a good forum for her unique format. It is the written word… and the spoken one too.

“I experiment with Flavors”… Elizabeth Stelling, hails from Texas where she grew up, but after traveling and now in New Jersey works on the road as a personal chef, and restaurant consultant. Also currently teaching culinary classes, she still runs her small catering and staffing business, and shares her love of cooking with local, organic, healthy, and natural ingredients. Elizabeth is a member of Slow Food and the American Wine Society, Princeton, New Jersey. She has published written works of poetry and media pieces, as well as hosts Cultural Art Expression- Open Mic

.

Thank you Elizabeth for sending us into an aural state of bliss!

Corn Bread & Beans

Morning fires warmed our small feet
Only to be numbed by the cold that
Lurked in the wooden floors
In the feelings meeting us in our living room…
Hunger pulled us… one-two-three…
Into the kitchen
Watching our mother- steam rising- boiling water
Her shaking hands
Preparing poverties feast
Children’s piercing eyes… one-two-three
Hands pulling, faint cries of wanting;
A little taste, a little recognition…
Dizziness brought on by stirring
Anger- hitting the spoon on the pan
Sometime us…
Tears brought on by onions
A father walking out the door…
Life's dish of hard lessons
A burning after taste of cruelty…
Left us… one- two- three- four
With a craving for corn bread and beans…

© E Stelling, 1976

I wrote this poem when I was around fifteen, and have revised it three or four times, but I still fall back on my original version.

FSO- Birds

Whilst visiting some of the town bloggers, I had noticed that photographing birds in the garden was a popular pastime so my first thought was to suggest a subject of garden birds. But then I realised that not everyone has the equipment to photograph the real things. That made me look out for alternatives and I noticed sculptures, posters, little models and various other things with birds on them so I hope that your town will prove equally productive and am really looking forward to seeing your birds (real or otherwise). All the best, Scriptor Senex

[My son's city team bird]

When I saw we were going to keep our eye out for birds, I found myself sheltered in my son's drafty and cool apartment right after a snow storm blew me into town last week. I thought surely even the birds are tucked all warm into their nests, so how in the world would I be able to take some decent shots.

Even I forgot about how we can stretch and interpret our themes into some creative output for the members. My St. Louis boy said "Mom, you are in the land of the Cardinals, and I have this jacket on, so bring on the camera"!

St. Louis boy and I went to see Avatar yesterday. I kept reading Mark's snippets about the movie over the course of  this week, and decided before he gave away the story we would go and see it for ourselves. Yes, I illegally took an IPhone photo of the rather odd alien bird flying across the screen. So squint and you can make it out. I am out on just how great it was...

This takes me to the good looking St. Louis boy, and his beautiful bird escort! Notice they are supporting some hot new 3D glasses. Think they can make a savvy fashion statement if they leave the theater this way...uh, I do not think so, but it was good for a laugh!

Now the snow had begun to melt and we took a nice drive, taking care of so many errands and tasks that had been put off, and what did we see, but a tree full of birds. Again you will have to squint...my IPhone does not have a zoom app...

This is the shadow of a bird of prey (below). One that places the fear of 'Ever After' Love in the hearts of girls all over St. Louis! If they happen to fall under his spell...

Ha! My son begrudgingly helped me with my bird post, by allowing his hands to form this creatures shadow on a mound of melting snow...after a few tries I finally got a shot, and with assistance from photoshop we both are hoping you feel it looks as though an eagle proudly displaying his wing span in glory atop a snowy mountain...or at least in this mothers heart...

Thanks for joining me for my 'Bird' post this week, and go check out the many others on this 'MckLinky' site...

My Town Blogger Friday Shoot Out- Birds

Here is one last photo from my archives and actually taken in New Jersey! I took last year during Easter. Food blogs have contest all throughout the year, and I entered this into a 'My Peeps' food post, and you can see my 'Roman Peeps' are protecting their plate of Italian Sun dried tomato Farro, food of the Roman troops... The head Peep is holding a very sharp (and possibly lethal) screw I found in the package of Farro I brought back from Italy the year before... Birds of a tasty kind...

Life Beyond...

I have often asked myself if there is life beyond the kitchen; being an empty nest'er, since my son goes to college and lives on his own in St. Louis; should I stay home and be a simple house wife; I worry if I act my age looking for good social food and wine scenes (kidding, who cares right!) since my cafe closed down a year ago. All those years of hard work in the food industry since I was fourteen. The dream of owning my own cafe all went whoosh down the toilet a year ago today. The owner went bust. My cafe was doing great, but I did not want to rent the entire space she occupied. You always start small; then add on as you grow, but not in this economy.The property did not want to downsize the space for me. Now they sit two thirds empty.

All my savings, and inheritance money gone. I felt at times all I had left was my open mic ambitions (I began to blog about my life and work). Sure I have my personal chef job, and consulting for other restaurants through the states woman's small business programs, but I felt there was more for me. So, focusing on the open mic to showcase my writing and helping others get out of there living room studios and into a spot light...I marched on. I now run three open mics around my area, and have been pushing the pencil, well, the computer keys for the past six months. Chugging out whatever comes to my mind. I often wake up from dreams and put it on paper while it is fresh.

Not all of my work is good. I would be fooling myself if I really thought that was the case. I do know that I have written some good stories, news paper articles, and poems over the past forty plus years of my life, and have published a number of them. I remain humble though, for I feel fortunate that I have more than a few talents in this life. My mother also had a dream like me. She was a simple housewife in an abusive relationship with my father, and she wrote poetry. Her artwork never saw the light of day, but I intend to change that one day. She did have ambition, but I only saw it in her eyes. I have many dreams, and intend to see as many of them as I can come true.

This past Monday I was contacted by a radio show in Boulder, CO (they found me through my blogs). The owner/host ask me if I was interested in submitting food poetry for their Crops To Cuisine show that airs Monday, 3 PM MT. I thought about it, contacted three of my possible/available friends to help me choose and edit work. The radio station contacted a local communications program at a local college, and arranged for me to go in studio and record. Nervous, anxious, but excited I went and had my first 'real' recording studio experience.

Win Howard my engineer for the afternoon was just as nice as can be! She helped me feel comfortable, and told me how to clear my throat without more irritation (I have allergies). I felt like the microphone was a second skin. I do emcee four times a month hosting my Cultural Art Expression- Open Mic groups, but to walk away hearing such a clear voice on the MP3 CD. Wow! I liked my voice. I liked my work. There is a good writer in this big silly southern girl body!

The Crop To Cuisine show received my recordings today, and called me to say "Hey there E, I was just gonna nibble, and listen to one. But one led to all. I love them. They each have their own character, and tell me a bit about you. Some tempt my appetite. Some bring back memories of my own. They are all great. I love how "onion soup" reads like it is following a recipe or technique. But it makes me feel like I am experiencing onion soup on a cold winter day. I love how " An Iceberg" tells a story everyone knows. They are great. Please keep em coming". - Dov

We will see where this leads me down the spoken word path? What will this mean for my writing career? Who cares/! I am having fun, and it is another thing to check off 'The Hunt'...

A few things that have helped me get through the hard times of my life since my daughter passed away nine years ago, as well as other things I have had to overcome...

Laugh more, love more, express yourself more, and help others...

I would like to thank Michele Kallman, Creative Writing/Drama Teacher for her friendship, tutoring and editing skills. She also writes some damn good poetry! Thank you Jeanne Estridge/Writer for her friendship, kindred writing spirit, tutoring and editing my works. She tells great jokes and is also a damn good writer! Thanks Melissa Gaffney for you friendship and editing skills as she is a journalist and is a fellow NJ blogger. I would like to thank Christo Gonzales AKA Doggybloggy for staying on my rear end this past year. He himself a Creative Writer Graduate. I have heard he is also a great poet/writer, and fellow blogger. He has told me time after time; if I am going to claim I am a writer then produce top grade work. Last, a great big Thanks for all of your encouragement too...

 www.croptocuisine.org
Monday, Nov 16, 2009, 3 PM MT, 4 PM Central, 5 PM Eastern
The show Crop To Cuisine airs twice montly...