Eratosphere - LitRev Results for the 'Recipe' Comp

None of us came within a whisker of this one. Oh well, we can't win 'em all!
I hasten to add that it's not sour grapes or anything (I didn't enter this one), but the judges are either unaware, or have chosen to ignore the fact, that 'marinade' is a noun - 'marinate' is the verb. It's a very common mistake.
Next month's competition came as a bit of a shock to me! (See new thread.)

Jayne

Report by Tom Fleming (Literary Review Deputy Editor)

This month’s challenge was to write a recipe in verse form. Nick Syrett wins first prize and £300; Alison Prince wins second prize and £150; and Colin Wood wins £10. There were several other impressive entries this month, as well as a few that read a little too much like actual recipes. They may yet prove useful.

First Prize
Jan de Heem by Nick Syrett

Fetch me lobsters, crabs and oysters,
Pineapples and plums and figs,
Godly claret from the cloisters,
Hams from their seraphic pigs,
A loaf as domed as a rotunda,
Pies, their pastry pulled asunder,
Berry innards spread like plunder,
Lime-rinds plumped like periwigs;

Each must sing its own quintessence:
Oyster shells as sharp as shards,
Wine that’s warm with incandescence,
Armoured crabs like palace guards;
Green glass grapes in bunched perfection,
An apple’s porcelain complexion.
Hymn the flesh’s insurrection
Underneath the cold façades;

Set pious pewter, silver bright,
Call Heda, Kelf or Jan de Heem
To marinade in lattice light
Each scattered fruit and jug of cream
And work their quiet work until
They’ve caught its life and held it still
Within the aspic of their skill,
Within the savour of their scheme.

Second Prize
Recipe for all forms of avoidance by Alison Prince

When threatened by necessity, there are
stratagems you may usefully employ.
First – routine. Continue to enjoy
the little comforts established before
requests began their petty-minded whine.
Sleep in the sun, or if wet, close the eyes
in front of the TV. It would be wise
to disconnect the phone in case some swine
should try to call you. Second – delegate.
Deploy a liar. Do not try to use
your wife for this, as she may well refuse,
in petty triumph, to co-operate
when needed. Third – avoidance. Go away,
feign illness, claim that intensive research
on burial customs of the Coptic church
must keep you in the Bodleian all day.
Fourth – compliance. Wear a ready smile
if cornered. Look surprised. ‘Good gracious me,
I’d no idea there was such urgency.
I’ll see to it at once.’ If done with style
it wins you weeks. Do not attempt to cry –
that’s only for females. Deeply unfair
of course, but there is no need for despair.
Last – the trump card. You can always die.

Vegan Recipes for One by Colin Wood

When I surveyed the wondrous mess –
Pea, Prune and Parsnip Bourguignon –
I cursed the day I first set eyes
On Vegan Recipes for One.

I’d ruled out Beetroot Shepherd’s Pie
And Artichoke Toad-in-the-Hole
And steeled myself against the lure
Of Leek and Lettuce Casserole

And settled for the Bourguignon.
At least the pictured plate looked nice –
A pretty, compact, blended ring
Upon a fluffy bed of rice.

So, ready, steady, cook – but then,
On opening the oven door
The prunes and parsnips lay marooned
Like flotsam on a pebbly shore.

The 1/8 pt. dry cider made
A urine-coloured sea that lapped
The shingly rice. Around it lay
Pea-pellets, as if mice had crapped.

I sighed, and dished it up, and took
A pickle-fork for my harpoon
And sat down gloomily to spear
A swollen, sad, testicular prune.