“I had a voracious appetite” by Sasha at the kitchen table

Thursday April 23, 2020
9:43pm
5 minutes
You Never Stop Saving The World
Don English

She is a hungry one
opening the door
searching for something
she could sink her teeth into
let the juice dribble down
her chin land on her breasts
stain her shirt
lift the shirt to her lips
and suck

She wants every last drop

The insatiable
doubt
longing
lust
desire
ambition
ambivalence

She doesn’t overthink
not this one
she opens
the lower right crisper
removes a perfect pear

Bites

Then it’s a spoonful
the memory of her grandmother’s tiramisu
sneaking finger-fulls
from the covered bowl
hoping no one notices

Dipping a ladle into the pot
bubbling tomato sauce
pouring it into an espresso cup
drinking it down
tiny cup after tiny cup
grating fresh parmigiana
cracking black pepper

She is a hungry one
The best ones are
Know how to feast and feel
Relish and release

Know how to fill a freezer
blackberries when they are ripe
small jars of pesto
pizza and cookie dough

“Reduce heat to a simmer” by Julia at Sambuca Grill


Thursday November 7, 2013 at Sambuca Grill
4:49pm
5 minutes
rebar modern food cookbook

Simmer down! He’d say, and every second from then on I would spend my life trying to figure out the best way to murder him without leaving a trace. Simmer down is for old ladies to yell foolishly at their million cats crowding the living room. Or for those lame teachers when they don’t like how rowdy their class is being. I don’t particularly enjoy it when my fiance of 5 years thinks he can tell me how to feel. My anger, he tells me, is a disturbed ocean. I want to punch him in his mouth when he says weird shit like that. Just because you’re a poet, doesn’t mean you get to turn me into something more beautiful. I know exactly who I am. A hot-tempered asshole sums it up nicely. I’m not upset about that even, I just don’t like when someone else who thinks they understand my brain, believes it’s a good time for me to change in some way to suit them. Simmering down to what? To cook onions? My personality is not making a fucking tomato sauce. I just want stew in my own feelings. And it pisses me off even more when BECAUSE OF HIM I start to say weird shit like “stew” after making a tomato sauce reference.

“debut in London” by Sasha on her couch


Sunday March 10, 2013
12:03am
5 minutes
Deconstructing Sammy
Matt Birkbeck


It wasn’t a fancy place, but it would do. It wasn’t particularly inviting – there was nothing on the walls, except faint fingerprints and scuffs from furniture moving; the kitchen smelt unendingly of old pepper and roasting pork chops; there were most certainly not dimmer switches on the lights. She admired the charm, however, of the smaller-than-usual toilet and the pantry off the stinky kitchen, which seemed to long for cans of tomato sauce from Sicily and jars of Dilly Beans from Granny’s garden. It wasn’t a fancy place, but it would do, at least for the six months that she planned to stay. Six months. With a possible extension of forever.