Baking in the Heat of Summer

The Height of the Delicious

with apologies to Oliver Wendell Holmes

I cooked some dishes once on a time,
  In a wondrous hungry mood,
And thought, as usual, guests would say
  My dear, these are so good.

Courses rich and courses smooth
  I nibbled as I stirred all,
Albeit I'm a slender gal
  And never wear a girdle.

I called my husband and he came;
  How kind of him to do so
Our contract doesn't specify,
  He's Friday to my Crusoe.

"These to the freezer," I called out,
  And in my humorous way
I added (he just loves my puns)
  "There'll be Jack Frost to pay."

He took the tray and I watched.
  Oh, this is far too riche!
Pushing aside the wrap, he sneaked
  A fingerful of quiche.

He smiled, then finished: on to ragout
  Herbs and wines and meats
That downed, he loosed his belt again
  And attacked the next of treats.

With baked Alaska gone, then mousse,
  I heard a sudden split.
"Is it waistband of arteries, darling,"
  I cried As he tumbled in a fit.

Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye
  I nursed that dyspeptic man
And since, I've never dared to cook
  As delicious as I can.

by Estelle Gilson
in volume 4 issue 1

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