The Go-To..

She hiked up her skirt
Climbed in to her car
Learning her lesson
Cracking her last skirt
Up her thigh last time.

A rumble.
From the engine?
Ah from her stomach
Curious what her kitchen
Will create.

Pulling in the parking lot
Eager to get inside
Appetite wide open

Work hard, play hard

She says to herself

You can afford to spoil yourself

Pushing the key in

Twist twice

Door unlocks

Drop the purse

Toss the keys on the counter

Locking the door behind her

Without hesitation

She kicks her right leg back

Pulling off her patent pump

With her left hand

Repeat the other side

She can't be bothered to wait

To her room she walks

Unzipping her pencil skirt

Untucking her blouse

Walking undressing

She returns to her kitchen

Hum of florescent bulbs

The buzz from the refrigerator

How pleasant is white noise?

Silence is comforting

After many years of noise

Happy in solitude

Uncorking her Merlot

No need for a wine glass

An old fashion glass sitting

On the dish rack will do.

Sipping she turns on her stove

She looks down, her shorts are loose

Sitting below her hips

The pink jersey she wore

Just as frumpy

She kept her pearls on

Habit

Opened her tiny fridge

Where prawns wait

Grey and drab 

Her kitchen is pleading

Hoping she makes something

Wonderful!

It's the go-to

The save-all

You know, the one dish

Cure for hunger

A pot and a skillet

She starts boiling water in a kettle

While she dresses her prawns

Olive oil - extra virgin

Chili flakes

Sea salt and cracked black

Crushing garlic with the back of her knife

She jumps!

A hot whistle 

From her busty red kettle

Some appliances are cheeky

She laughed at her own joke

"Well aren't you fresh!" she says

To her kettle as she lifts it up

Pouring it's contents into the pot

A fist full of salt into her water

To taste like the sea! Remembering

Chef Chalet - first year Culinary College

Lemon zest

Chopped parsley

Shrimp are dressed

Her knife skills still sharp

No pun intended

She quickly glides through

Capsicum - red and yellow

A Spanish onion gets sliced wafer thin

Sip - Merlot

Her pan is pumping a heat

So hot it can smoke

This is the time

Fresh tagliatelle sits in a bowl

Canary yellow, curled and intertwined

Like a messy wig no one bothered to

Untangle

A fat splash of olive oil

It begins to bead and smoke

Onions and peppers first

A loud sizzle

Careless, she allows oil to pitch

Falling on her forearm

Immediate reaction was to place

Her lips over it, licking it cool

It's okay, a little pain

Worth the sacrifice

Garlic then prawns

No need to look,

As she tossed and flicked her pan

Watching shrimp sprout wings

Jumping and landing

In a delicious acrobatic trance

Pasta takes a bath

Plunging into a salty hot tub

Her tongs detangle what was

Blonde chaos

In a matter of minutes

A meal comes together

Tagliatelle gets lifted up

Carried to the pan of prawns

A spoonful of chili pesto

Slips and coats making everything

Orange and gold

A handful of verdant spinach

Folds in wilting and collapsing

Done. She smiles.

Her hair, once whisked up

Now tumbles down her back

A place is set

Old fashioned glass

Merlot stands idle

She plates neatly

As food should look good

And taste good

Wiping the edges clean

She places it on the table set for one

Less than 30 minutes

Tossing high heels in the corner

Skirts on beds

Pearls dangling around her neck

Shorts and t-shirts

Cross legged at the table

A stand-by

A dinner

Comforting and warm

This is her go-to 

At the end of her day

End of her rope

But it is also the start of 
What makes dining with her

Wonderful!

xo,

The Girl