That's what I call useful poetry.
Has anyone ever done an anthology of cooking poems? There's a very fine one by Grevel Lindop entitled "Summer Pudding" and The Golden Gate has this good stanza on the pickling of olives:
The salt’s mixed as the water’s heated.
An egg’s released upon the brine.
It floats! The first stage is completed.
Phase two: In stratified design,
Bands of plump olives and thick slices
Of lemon, dusted well with spices,
Are laid inside each pickling jar.
Now into each packed reservoir
A sluice of cooling brine is pouring.
A seal of olive oil to spare
The olives from the ambient air –
And the jar’s set aside for storing.
The lid’s screwed tightly; sighs are heaved;
The label’s stuck: the task’s achieved.
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