Eileen Tse, aka hulabunny , posted this last month but I didn’t think it got the attention it should have so I am, with her permission, reposted it for Poetry Friday. For your reading pleasure I present a parody of T.S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”  (click here if you want to read the original first.)

The Love Song of Wolfgang Puck
(with apologies to T.S. Eliot)

by Eileen Tse

Mettez une tasse de farine dans la sucre.  Ajoutez
une petite cuillere de vanille et deux oeufs, frappe.
Melangez bien.  Enfin, ajoutez une demie tasse de
chocolat amer.  Frappez avec un CuisinArt. (1)

Let us go then, you and I,
When the neon stretches out across the sky
Like a turkey laid upon a carving board;
Let us go, through certain over-crowded dining halls,
The shopping malls
Full of rundown Dairy Queens and Taco Bells
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Aromas that smell of a hearty bouillabaisse
Waft down alleyways
To lead you to an overwhelming question…
Do not ask, “That scent!  Oh, what is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

The women dine on macaroni
Talking of Caffe Borrone.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellowtail that lies atop a bed of rice,
Garnished with pickled ginger on the side;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a luncheon to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to cook and bake,
And time for all the types and sorts of gadgets
That frost and decorate your cake;
Time for fish and time for veal,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of the mid-day meal.

The women dine on jumbalaya
Talking of La Pastaia.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Tuna ahi?” and “Quiche Lorraine?”
Time to take the pasta out to drain,
With the sauce just a little bit too plain –
[They will say: “My, but her recipe is faulty!”]
My salad dish, croutons seasoned but not too salty,
My chowder rich and creamy, accented with a hint of poultry –
[They will say: “But how her food is paltry!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the cheese souffle?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which in a minute can go either way.

For I have known these meals already, known them well:
Have known the dinners, breakfasts, lunches,
I have measured out my life by weekend brunches;
I know the scallops steaming in the half-shell
Beneath the herbs and spices from the Indies West.

So how should I digest?

I should have baked the king crab’s claws
Scuttling across the floors of Lucky’s.

No!  I am not Julia Child, nor was meant to be;
I am an amateur chef, one that will do
To grill a lamb chop, toss a salad or two….

I grow full… I grow full…
I shall unzip my trousers to let my belly roll.

Shall I indulge in dessert?  Do I dare eat a peach?
I shall try the white chocolate mousse, then work it off at Reach.
I have heard the waitresses singing, “Tip us!  Tip us each!”

We have lingered in the chambers of the feast
By bus-boys clad in aprons red and brown
Till indigestion shakes us, and we drown.

(1) This recipe is from Better Homes and Gardens, which features various dessert recipes.  This is taken from the recipe for Nuages au Chocolat, a fluffy chocolate dessert not unlike a chocolate souffle.   “Put one cup of flour in the sugar.  Add a teaspoon of vanilla and two eggs, beaten.  Then, add a half cup of bittersweet chocolate.  Beat in a CuisinArt.”

Eileen’s original post on the poem can be found here.

The roundup today is at The Holly and the Ivy