Is a matter of taste
Before Jamie bored us
(Though he knew all the chords)
With his bland Britpop brand
Before Nigella’s Shania Twain cosy cleavage
Popped the eyes out of Middle Ingerland
Before Ramsey’s parental advisory
Repetitive rap
And Carluccio (RIP)
Plated up that simple opera
We all could grasp
Tony showed us that food was
The Stooges The MC5 Los Explosivos
Where oysters are MDMA
And the Ramones are alive on that plate
Where the kitchen cast
Were Goodfellas
The Three Amigos
And Scarface
Stepping in
As the culinarily crew
Of Battleship Potemkin
Where the kitchen was the spotlight
Where the cooks were the stage show
Where the roadies were as important as the band
Where the collective experience
Could make you cry
Grown man
And the food was the tune
That punched your throat and
Kicked your balls
Made you sit on your arse for hours
Pouring wine and breaking bread
Messed with your mind
Pogue-d your head
Made you fall in love
Again
With something you shouldn’t have
‘Cos you’ll always remember the times you fell
And you’ll never forget love
When it’s cooked that well
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