I Cooked My Ass Off

I Cooked My Ass Off Julia Childs had nothing on me, I have won the Golden Fork, a cooking contest I once entered my dish was “Dressed Up Pork”. The thing on which I did not count was a rule I must have missed we had to butcher our own meat; just ask if I was pissed. I will not say how it came to be, but in my pan a pork roast laid. I gathered all my spices and herbs, tomato paste and marmalade. I cut little slits, into which I tucked hand picked basil and garlic clove, whisked up the sauce, took a taste then simmered it on the stove. I made a dressing of oil and bleu and tossed it with ‘drunken’ tomatoes. I arranged my food on the china plate to show off my Parsley Potatoes. Cheese, Olive and Pepper Bread, two warm and crusty loaves, a crock I baked of Whiskey Beans, fresh peaches, from local groves browned in spiced and buttery syrup, spooned over Rice Pudding, warm. Judges kept staring and sniffing the air, my table they waited to swarm. Pork that melted right in their mouths with a glaze that took them to heaven. Imagine my shock when I was announced the winner of a buck, ninety-seven. 02-26-11 ©tlp 2011