Judy Copek - Novelist * Blogger * Poet * Geek * Traveller * Cook * Gardener
Ave Caesar
Not wimpy iceberg--
The lettuce has to be dark romaine.
Romaine, like a sultry woman’s name
Large-leafed and promising.
Tuscan olives from sunny Lucca
Provide extra virgin purity
Smooth, and oh so gently pressed.
Mediterranean shades of green sooth the senses.
The juice of a lemon, ripe with sun.
Giddy ripeness. Ripe and sour.
The raw egg –perilous but necessary.
Hell! Go ahead, Live dangerously.
Toss. Toss.
Use your hands. Glistening gooey fingers.
Toss again, like a madman. Get into it.
The croutons must be made from scratch.
Stale cubes of bread sautéed in oil.
Crush the garlic in the bowl. Be brutal.
Mash. Mash.
Let it get under your fingernails.
Who cares?
Freshly grated cheese from Parma
.
Hard as nails. Sharp.
Salad can be like a woman.
Grate. Grate. Use some muscle.
Grip the peppermill.
Grind. Grind.
A judgement call’s worth of salt.
Toss and taste.
Anchovies the only option.
Would the Roman legions
Salute a chicken Caesar?
A silver fork, a dinner plate, a damask napkin
Generously sized, to cover a lap.
Sit down. Say grace.
Eat. Eat.
Ave Caesar.
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