Intro -
Food has always been used by romantics,
To cheer people up when they feel blue.
Messing about with food semantics,
What if the food felt the same way too?

Harmonica

Scold me, take my skin off when you roll me.
Fold me, with a metal spoon.
Mould me, into metal tins that hold me,
Never fry to poach me, away from roux.

Grease me, so the baking tins release me.
Bake blind, or wrap me up en-croute.
Baste me, just before you taste me.
Steam-ingly em-braise me,
Cos I knead you.

Grill me, marinate to thrill me.
Boil me, reduce me to a glaze.
Flambe, infuse with spice from Bombay.
Simmer till al-dente, with Bolognese.