Monday, 8 October 2012

Gregg by Lara Jakob






















He said I had lovely puddings:
That no baking powder was needed
To get a rise out of him.
 
He said my buns had great warmth:
That the dough needn’t be kneaded
For the sin to grow within
 
He said our flavours complemented each other:
That on the palate we pirouetted like peppercorns;
Pole dancing ‘pon the rolling pin.
 
He wanted to go to heaven on my spoon,
Felt that divinity was in my chocolate
That my souffl├ęs were deities
That he had found his soul in my jus.
 
The temperature keeps increasing,
The kitchen is getting hotter -
I don’t want our sauce to split.
 
Mr Wallace, I realise:
Loving you couldn’t get any tougher than this.



Lara blogs here and tweets to great effect, especially during competitive cooking shows.

1 comment:

  1. That picture of Gregg Wallace always makes me laugh!

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