On the first day She said: Let them be very, very light! And lo! She created the recipes.
On the Second day She brought forth ingredients; amassed them in packets,
stacked them in blocks and on perfect ceramic dishes;
and assembled utensils shone amongst the cosmos.
On the third day, She separated the wet ingredients from the dry; then creamed,
and steamed, and beat, and whisked frothily,
and then weighed, sieved, grated, crumbed and added pinches,
folded the mixtures unto their own becoming.
The fourth day saw Her hands shape petit-fours, scatter star-cut cookies, roll cinnamon-wheels,
pour pale batters into smart cake-tins and non-sticks,
tip out the foam of the Swiss roll mix, spoon macaroons, fruit-up tartlets:
and the heavens sang in the glory of Her meringues.
And on the fifth, these things were baked to perfection,
optimum timing and temperatures, selected correctly.
On the sixth day they acquired their Holy scrumptious: eiderdowns of lovely cream and
a marzipan coat unto Battenburg, crimp-edged lemon-curd, red jam, or treacle tarts,
a summer pudding crammed with berries,
hundreds-and-thousands and glace cherries and sugared violets
nippling cup-cakes, brandy-snaps curled around Chantilly cream:
all of these wonders and more, set out on Her Glorious Doyleys.
On the seventh day, She scoffed lot;
and thereafter all humankind seeketh out
this perfection in Her Own Likeness.