POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.


And so  we continue! The final line for my nickname poem said:  It never mattered what they called me, as long as it wasn’t “late for dinner!”

So as long as we’re talking dinner, we’ll explore that next.


Part 6: Food For Thought! – What is your favorite food? Comfort food? The best thing Mom ever made that you crave to this day? Tap your taste buds and write how it appeal(ed)s to you. Anything you write will be easy to swallow!


MOM’S CHICKEN PAPRIKASH (Yes, it gets its own sonnet. It’s that good.)

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee for the chicken she sautés
With onion, to a golden-crusted glaze,
That fills her home with welcoming bouquets.

Paprika-peppered drippings add some spice
To sour cream-rich sauce that MAKES this fare –
As if it needs more flavor to entice.
The dumplings are to-die-for.  Must I share?

She adds a crusty bread or dinner roll,
To sop up every drop of luscious sauce.
I must admit, I have no self control –
My portion-size-controller’s at a loss.

The balance of the flavors is ideal.
It’s everyone’s requested birthday meal.

© Marie Elena Good – 2012


I ♥ GOLUMBKI (Gołąbki)

Stuffed cabbage rolls;
pigs in the blanket
over mashed potatoes?
You can bank it.

Of all the ethnic food
that I was raised on,
golumbki was always
what I grazed on.

Ground beef and rice
comprised the filling
smothered in sauce,
oh, so thrilling.

Make me a plate
and slip me utensils,
erect me a billboard
lettered with stencils:


© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2012



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220 thoughts on “FOOD FOR THOUGHT – PROMPT #71

  1. My grandmother made the BEST chicken paprikash. Now I have a craving… must get into the kitchen pronto!

  2. Henrietta Choplin on said:

    Ha.. ha.. ha… here I go waking the neighbors at this late (early) hour…
    Yummy… one of my favorite topics… food/cooking… Loved both of yours, Meg and Walt ! 🙂 !

  3. claudsy on said:

    Oh, such fun ones, with a built in urging for recipes to be attached. Love them both. Walt, I may have a recipe for you that you’ll never let go of. We’ll talk. And Marie, I can envision you sitting down to the table laden with this dish. I’ll leave it at that. 🙂

  4. Henrietta Choplin on said:

    My Daily Bread

    You would think
    that my favorite food
    would be,
    A wonderful, yummy dish
    that she made for me
    But, really,
    My absolute favorite thing
    in the whole, wide world
    would be,
    A hunk of warm San Francisco
    with the salty ocean air
    blowing thru
    my Swiss cheese
    while “…sittin’ on the dock of the
    Watchin’ the tide roll away…” *

    (Thank you Otis Redding) 🙂

  5. some seriously good poeming (and eating) going on here.

    Here’s one to be going on with:

    When I was young and foolish.
    Bassetts’ Liquorice Allsorts
    a whole packet for lunch was my way.
    Coffee, strong black with sugar
    several times a day, kept my brain alert
    for work and play
    until I could no longer sleep.

    Cigarettes, another youthful folly,
    – a slow burn, from one now and then
    to twenty or thirty a day.
    Insidious hold, they had over me.
    Sickened and broke I soon became
    a reluctant addict:
    precious little pleasure with them
    and none at all without.
    Twenty years of trying and failing
    furtive puffs in secret places –
    shame added to distress –
    crowned at last with complete success.

    Maltesers, Mars and Marathon,
    the gift of a box of Belgian heaven –
    one for Jock, the rest for me –
    repentance you will never see.
    One addiction replaced with another,
    chocoholicism is here to stay.

  6. I often put recipes on my blog. This one provokes poetry in my soul:

  7. Pingback: The Wait « Metaphors and Smiles

  8. The Wait

    Creamy goodness, it was the perfect portion;
    a most palatable prelude for, “mini-pizzas.”
    Eating and watching while waiting,
    the hilarity of our favorite three stooges
    in black and white sprawling across the tinny T.V.
    laughter and shenanigans increased,
    it was enthralling to the trio of our sibling set.
    We listened to our aproned Grammy in the kitchen
    as she cooked burger and green pepper/onion toppings.
    We drooled as she placed English-muffins on a cookie sheet,
    abundantly topping them with sauce and the, “fixins.”
    All the while the dairy delectable that filled the gap,
    (the one that we craved on the walk back from church),
    the single savored ration that could not compete,
    the telling texture that was worthy of a morning-long wait
    was the small-glass baking-ramekin filled to the spilling brim
    with the brilliant white of our most favorite curds and whey.

    ©Hannah Gosselin 9/2/12

    Some long-line odd breaks I see…Oh well…Happy Sunday smiles to everyone!!

  9. Marie and Walt…your dishes are mouth-wateringly amazing sounding…mmm!! :)’s to you both!

  10. Food

    Simple, to say a word


    or write:
    “a fresh fig” “a dripping peach” “homegrown tomato”
    Simple, even, to be particular, as
    banana pudding, Aunt Harriet’s,
    still warm from the oven, heaped
    so high the bottom-most vanilla wafers sigh
    and forget about their figures
    into a big, yellow, bowl and set just off center to the east
    on scrub-worn oilcloth–floral, once–covering a long body-smoothed table
    with a bench along the window side,
    four ladderback cane seat chairs opposite and one on either end
    in that indeterminate summer year
    when we were back, cold from swimming,
    and the air was stinking sweet with hay and honeysuckle
    and everyone I knew was still alive

    to recall absent flavors

  11. OK, this is stupid as a poem, but the food is worth trying 🙂


    Banitsa – as my mother made it
    Banitsa – as my dad used to make it
    Banitsa – as made by my auntie, although too oily or salty
    Banitsa – as I now make it

    Whisked eggs, stirred with yogurt,
    Add some sun-seed oil,
    Feta cheese all over
    But the dough sheets you’d better buy
    than make.

    Each corner of the country has
    its version thereof.
    Each family on our street
    has its own.

    Yet, we all buy the dough sheets.


    In case anyones’s interested, here’s a reference on what Banitsa is: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Banitsa


    Your cheesy goodness makes me swoon;
    don’t even need a fork or spoon.
    From Cheddar Bay they say you come,
    I just know I want me some.
    Your warmth and softness are the best.
    Though I love bread, you beat the rest.
    Red Lobster was the only place
    that I could see your luscious face.
    But I can make them now, I bet,
    thanks to the good old internet!


    I could smell it from blocks away
    when I stepped off the bus from school.
    My mouth would instantly water.
    I had to be careful not to drool.

    She started in the morning,
    for it took all day to make.
    It was worth every minute cooking,
    please make no mistake.

    There is nothing I remember
    that could so quickly make my day
    than knowing Mom’s spaghetti
    was just a dinnertime away.

    So I made it for my children
    when they came home from school
    thinking it would have the same effect
    and for it they would drool.

    What they said instead was,
    “Don’t we have Ragu”?
    which is way more in my skill set,
    just between me and you.

    • Henrietta Choplin on said:

      Aaahahaha… Oh, I’m sorry for laughing, but kids nowadays…. Phooey…!

    • hohoho! yeah, children would be like that. who knows, your mom maybe tried to entice you with some other delicacy, not exactly the spagetti…
      who knows? we do our best and just hope for the best outcome.

    • Linda, I am so sorry. I would have loved to write something good to you but to be honest I hate spagetti. I never managed to work the fork right and I always end up having tomato sauce all over my face – and if worse – on my clothes. And more to be honest, I don’t think it tastes of anything. I understand Walt’s dish which is “kåldolmer” in Danish. That’s a very specific faint taste. But spagetti dishes never had me. Please put a spagetti recipe there, too, and hopefully you can convince me. It’s not that I don’t like it – it’s more like I don’t look good when I eat it and it doesn’t taste of anything. But what do I know? I have no good spagetti recipes.

    • Mama made EYE-talian spaghetti, which meant that you added a ton of hamburger to canned sauce and let the cooked pasta stew in it for half an hour or so. Pretty much like Chef Boy-ar-DEE. (Ragu’s grandpa)

      • Henrietta Choplin on said:


        • With Irish ancestors, potatoes were a mainstay for meals. For me the discovery of spaghetti was a great addition to the weekly menu, made with Ragu, of course.
          Then, one weekend, my friend,s Italian grandfather was visiting Totonto for the summer. Making spaghetti with meatballs required a visit to the market to buy fresh garlic and oregano & a few more items. The tomato sauce filled their house with a delicious scent & the meal was delicious. That is when I really discovered spaghetti!

    • Marjory M thompson on said:

      Spaghetti I learned to eat the ‘right’ way – neatly rolled on a fork – as a teen. Today my hubby cuts his and I remind him that he is letting the flavor run out of the noodles by doing do. They just taste better whole.!

    • Yes, how true. I once made hot chocolate using cocoa powder, etc. for my next-door neighbors kids. Their response: Don’t you have Nestle’s Quick?

  14. GEMINI

    They are here!
    Born tonight or maybe sometime this morning.
    Who do I tell?
    What can I say?
    What’s on my mind?
    Two red tomatoes, one
    a bit more red than the other.
    Here we are.
    Two red tomatoes in the sandy soil of
    no tomato land.

    You might ask me:
    Are they brandywine?

    They are tiny red pieces from Heaven and
    here I am to pick them.
    Letting their taste of sunshine hit
    every vein in my body,
    every little taste bud on my tongue,
    letting me feel happy,

  15. Great poem. We plan whole menues around our homegrown tomatoes!

  16. Marjory M thompson on said:

    Hummm- My mom was not ‘into cooking’,
    A job she learned after marrying..
    Food was just a part of the day.
    Nothing special in anyway.
    But, it was years after I married
    ‘fore fried ‘tates to table I carried.

    Frome grade-school days, we girls made our own breakfast and lunch, and had dinner started by the time mom came home from work.

  17. Marian Veverka on said:

    his is the smell of dinner, cooking

    Sniff the smell of cabbage steaming
    On the stove this Sunday morning

    hand-picked from the vegetable garden
    this sunny morning in November.

    See how the cabbage keeps producing
    Even when the frosts and cold spells

    Turned all of the tender veggies
    Into little piles of mush.

    Now the pan of boiling water
    Bubbles over from the lid

    Quick! It’s time to add the noodles
    Watch them grow from dry to plump.

    We are ready! All the noodles mixed
    Into the cabbage (with a bit of chopped-up onion}

    Let the flavors merge together! Serve the kielbasa
    On the side. Enjoy our delicious Sunday feast!

  18. Spices of Childhood

    By Patricia Anne McGoldrick

    Cinnamon delight
    Sticky buns
    Hot and savory
    Fresh from the oven

    Nutmeg treat
    Topped with smooth
    Butter-cream vanilla icing

    Molasses sweet
    With ginger
    Scent wafting through the air

    Back in the day fragrances
    Stay in my mind
    Comfort Food
    Home sweet home.

  19. Thanks for the comments!
    Marie & Walt, so,liking this prompt about food & all the poems & comments. Ironically, the movie Eat Pray Love is what I am watching today. What a combo!
    Great thoughts to take with me on my September walk today!

  20. Laurie Kolp on said:

    Motherly Love (A Tanaga)

    Creamy white mound pillow soft
    buttery drips, pleasant wafts,
    skyward bound a cloud-like treat;
    why mashed potatoes… let’s eat!

  21. Pingback: PART 6 – Food For Thought | Two Voices, One Song

  22. Sorry Walt, but we both have the same favorite with different countries taking part.

    Sweet and Sour

    Romanian and Russian backgrounds
    blended blood and cultures, bestowing
    the art of creating foods on Mom.
    The best marriage was Mom and Dad,
    followed by stuffed cabbage. Holiday
    aromas teased the air. Dark
    and pale green cabbage leaves,
    stuffed with ground meat, rice,
    and a touch brown sugar, rolled
    and set–two toothpicks to each–to simmer
    in a dutch oven, filled with tomatoes,
    golden raisins, sprinklings of brown
    sugar, and squeezing of lemons,
    until tasting provided perfect ratio
    of sweet to sour.

  23. This is awesome… Caution: Read the responses while not hungry or your belly is bound to make the loudest noises… trust me on this. Here is my contribution for the day:

    Homecoming Dinner
    By: Meena Rose

    Every year, every visit
    My parents spoil me

    Dolmas, tzatziki, pita;
    How do I begin to describe
    Bursts of joy upon a

    Palette long denied
    Savory communion as
    Spices of home explode

    Pleasant memories of
    Family feasts and times
    Of plenty?

    Perhaps it is the tang
    Of tamarinds, or the
    Lemony zing of tzatziki.

    Perhaps it is the sense
    Of love that courses
    Through with each bite.

    One thing is for sure
    My parents’ kitchen
    Is a place I adore.


  24. Nuts to Soup

    My snack when I am hungry
    is some kind of nut:
    pecans, walnuts, pasticcios,
    or almonds, too.

    I also put nuts in my
    whole-wheat pancakes
    with dried fruit bits
    on Saturdays and Sundays.

    Pierogies and sour cream
    remind me of my Polish-
    Ukrainian Grandma who sent
    us home with leftover feasts.

    Our quick-we-are-in-a-hurry
    comfort food is the macaroni
    and cheese entrée prepared
    in the kitchens of Safeway.

    It has been too long
    since Dean has kneaded
    dough for his homemade
    bread for us to devour.

    I think of Mother’s vegetable
    beef soup as I use the barley
    box recipe for my own. I love
    eating more than cooking.

    Sheryl Kay Oder

  25. Country Meal

    Turkey, quail, pheasant,
    venison, rabbit or even squirrel from our woods
    or trout from the creek just past Pappap’s
    as the main dish.

    Potatoes, corn, tomatoes, lettuce, onions,
    cucumbers, green beans, yellow squash
    from the garden as the sides.

    Elderberries, grapes, Siberian crabapples,
    rhubarb, blueberries and blackberries,
    walnuts, hickory and hazel nuts
    picked right out of our yard to make
    homemade jams and jellies,
    cookies, cobblers and pies for dessert.

    Nothing like a fresh country meal.

  26. janeshlensky on said:

    Marie and Walt got me hungry and now the rest of you have both fed me and made me ravenous. I think I’ll eat a poem!

    Mama’s Mincemeat Pie

    She only made it once a year—
    and then under duress.
    “It’s so much trouble,” she would say;
    Of course, it was the best.

    Even if it took a day
    to grind the tender meats
    and tenderloin that she hand-picked
    that made it savory sweet,

    Even if the currents, raisins,
    apples, and orange zest
    made labor for a single meal,
    that pie was just the best!

    The fruits and meats would harmonize
    and bubble in the crust,
    the raisins plump, and Oh, the smell,
    would cause tastebuds to lust

    for just one bite—or maybe more—
    what sweet moans we would make,
    but she weaned us away one Christmas Day
    with a snow-fluffy coconut cake.

  27. connielpeters on said:


    I do not make no bake
    chocolate peanut butter oatmeal cookies,
    because they are like the White Witch’s
    Turkish Delight from Narnia,
    so enchanted, you’d eat yourself into oblivion.
    So I do not make no bake
    chocolate peanut butter oatmeal cookies.
    I think I just gained a pound thinking about them.

  28. Somewhat Canadian

    Morning – I am a morning person
    and ever since I lost my sense
    of smell, or most of it, and with it
    many taste-buds marched off too
    Breakfast is the one meal I can still
    smell; I’m not sure if by sleeping
    I rest the few olfactory glands
    I have left, recharge them so to speak
    But just set some bacon to sizzling
    Add to that French toast especially
    if the maple syrup’s being warmed
    as well —and the butter too—
    if I’m being particularly spoiled…
    And I drift into the kitchen like
    a cartoon character, following
    my nose, salivating the whole way

  29. Wow, you guys have been busy today. I wrote about something I didn’t really like as a kid but grew into loving it as an adult.

    “Julekage—Christmas past”

    They toasted it,
    buttered it, and set
    thick slices on blue and white
    plates imprinted with flowers and a hearty

    Var så god
    (Enjoy! Welcome! Help yourself!)

    Eight grandchildren called it “Yucka Kaga”
    and crinkled our noses while the grown-ups
    dipped the sweet Christmas bread into rich
    Swedish coffee that Grandma Dolly perked
    in eggshells then poured into dainty porcelain
    cups that read:

    Kaffetaren den basta ar av alla jordiska drycker
    (Coffee is the best of all earthly drinks.)

    Cardamom and candied fruit, yeasty sweet that
    still smells like silly grandma Dolly who tried to take
    Great Grandma Anna’s recipe to her grave.

    This Christmas mom will bake it for the last time.
    Together we’ll dip our crusty buttered Julekage
    into thick steamy cups of perked coffee
    in remembrance of Christmas past.

  30. The heavenly scent wafting through the kitchen
    On cold winter evenings; thick white cream,
    Potatoes, onions, not to mention the salty bacon,
    Causing all our mouths to water as we encourage Mom to hurry
    With many a word and hungry gesture.
    We watch with baited breath and glowing eyes
    As at last, she sets it on the table, the delicious aroma pervading
    Our nostrils, our stomachs growling dangerously;
    Waiting impatiently as grace is said, then it’s “Dig in!”
    Savoring each blessed mouthful, hoping they’ll be room
    For seconds, or possibly thirds or fourths.
    I haven’t had it in such a ling time, but I’ll never forget
    The scent or the gloriously divine, rich, creamy taste
    Of Mom’s own homemade chowder!


    A tin of tuna
    A can of mushroom soup
    Add canned veg and give it
    A stir, then cover the top
    With smashed up potato chips.
    Bake until bubbling.
    As kids we loved it.
    As adults we shudder
    At the excessive salt.
    My mum loved anything
    that stacked up in tins.

  32. Food Category

    I never really realized
    how much I like gourds.
    When it comes to making dishes,
    with them I’m never bored.

    With a birthday in September,
    Zucchini is always ripe.
    If I don’t get a Chocolate zucchini
    cake, you just might hear me gripe!

    Eggplant Parmesan is my
    favorite dish, by far.
    I try it everywhere its served
    and rate each with a star.

    Zucchini, squash and pumpkin
    all gourds that I adore.
    I just found out that eggplant
    is a berry, not a gourd!

    © KED 2012

  33. A toast

    Doesn’t matter if it’s black
    we still can put it in the rack
    Doesn’t matter how it’s made
    as long as we have marmalade

    Doesn’t matter if the bacon
    and the fried tomato’s taken
    There will always be a tin
    of beans to soak our soldiers in

    Doesn’t matter if you’re the Queen
    a serf or something in between
    the colour of your eyes, or if you look like me,
    there’s just one thing on which we all agree:

    We all pay homage to electric fires blazing
    Bright in every kitchen, daily praising
    the humble carbohydrate slice that binds a nation.
    For all of us eat toast – no matter what our station.

  34. Pingback: Distracted « Misky

  35. Marian Veverka on said:

    We call it “cabbage and noodles.” There is a Polish name for it, but I never saw it written down. I’ll do the recipe, it’s very easy.

  36. “Meet & Potatoes!”

    I guess you’d call them patties,
    Small cutlets made of veal;
    My children yell, “Kotlety!”
    And with delight they squeal.

    They ask me, “What’s for dinner?
    What’s this that smells so good?”
    It’s been an all-time winner –
    Kotlety – Russian food!

    Potatoes, young and steamy,
    Clear streams of butter flow,
    Green parsley…eyes turn dreamy,
    And cheeks begin to glow.

    These simple foods won’t boast,
    Thus my shot-glass I raise:
    Simplicity I toast,
    And wholesomeness I praise.

    My dish is no smarty,
    Won’t pass a French chef’s test,
    Still nothing beats this hearty
    Meet and potatoes zest!

  37. claudsy on said:

    I know I’m late. I was gone until very late last night, except for one stop back at the house. Hope you enjoy my little poem. I’ll try to get back soon do to comments on all of the lovely entrees here.

    Wishing and A’hopin’

    Aromas from Mom’s oven
    Tantalized with a lifetime
    Of Love’s expression.
    Sweetness floated on atom
    Wings to glide up nostrils
    Attached to anticipation.

    Eternity passed behind
    Oven’s door, creating
    Its own focused fascination,
    While in fits and fidgets
    I awaited the grand entrance
    Of my Achievement Day’s
    Perfect salutation presentation:
    Mom’s family recipe of
    Homemade Butterscotch Pie.

  38. Oh dear! Running behind — as always! 😐
    But, here’s my “food memory”, anyway:

    Holiday Dressing

    Side by side they mince and slice
    working with implements that only
    appear at certain specific holidays,
    adding ingredients none of us
    recognize (or choose to ingest) –
    bits of giblets too visceral to include,
    too vital to omit – combined with
    vegetables, peppered with salt & spices,
    and arguably balanced (“Too much of this”,
    “Too little that”) by Bell’s Seasoning.
    Youngest daughters of a family dis-
    connected, severed from ancestors,
    generations removed by geography;
    but, blood is thicker than water
    (under the bridge or over the damn),
    so two sibling rivals collaborate,
    (who never knew grandparents,
    whose parents lie beyond their reach)
    two sisters, still attempt to rekindle,
    recollect, reconnect by taste

    © PSC – 2012

  39. See Food

    I see food and I like it.
    There’s nothing I won’t eat.
    Except maybe for fruitcake.
    To me, that is no treat.

    Bring on broiled whitefish or smoked salmon.
    Steamed mussels or king crab legs would be fine.
    I’d love a huge plate of some fresh sea scallops,
    served with a glass or two of a fine wine.

    I really do crave shrimp.
    You can make it any way.
    But, lobster is my favorite food.
    I’d eat that every day.

    By Michael Grove

  40. Rolling in Dough

    Mom believed in home baked goods
    And I’m her mother’s daughter

    No cookie’s worth a bite
    Unless made with love and butter

    Snickerdoodles sugary cinnamon
    Flaky crunch as you bite in

    Peanut butter rich and sweet
    Melt in your mouth, crunchy treat

    Chocolate chip by far the best
    Vanilla, buttery chocolate mess
    Warm and gooey from the oven
    That’s the way that I love ’em

    Don’t think that you can tempt me
    With goods from a bakery

    Unless they slid from mom’s cookie sheet
    I’ll keep on walking down the street

  41. Pingback: “food” ~ #MondayPrompt for week 22/10 – 28/10/2012 « Phoenix's Poetry & Stories

  42. Pingback: Produce(d) On A Farm | echoes from the silence

  43. ejparsons on said:

    Just the Way I Like It

    Elbow macaroni
    The white kind
    Don’t like that cheesy brown stuff
    It ain’t that much healthier

    Boil the water and add salt
    Plenty of salt
    Add a little garlic for taste
    Then add the macaroni

    Open a can of stewed tomatoes
    Pour into a sauce pan
    Turn up the heat
    And add a pat of butter
    Then another pat
    And another
    And another
    I like butter

    Don’t forget the hot sauce
    About ten drops
    Times three
    I like hot sauce

    Check the macaroni
    Don’t want it mushy
    Drain it when it’s done
    And add another pat of butter

    Remove the tomatoes from the stove
    Add to the macaroni
    Grab a large glass of ice tea
    No sugar added
    Get a slice of bread
    And butter that bad boy
    Now it’s time to
    Sit down for a delicious meal

    You noticed that I didn’t mention a bowl
    Because you eat it straight out of the pan
    Like a man

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