PISSARRO FOUND POETRY IN THE CABBAGE
If you listen to the fashionistas of the modern culinary arts,
When they describe perfect roasts or sumptuous lemon tarts,
You’ll hear their words of praise for all those fruits and meat
And how to meld their flavours, comingling savoury with sweet.
And even though they often play an important supporting role,
The humble vegetable is still more courtesan than prole.
The muscular potato or statuesque carrot
Are stables of the table, more often praised than not.
But down amongst the also rans, the forgotten men of food
Whose highest praise is usually ‘Eat up, they’ll do you good’
Besides that distorted vege-beast, the emblem of our drab age
Reviled at school, the pauper’s feast, there rests the simple cabbage.
Let us look beyond this unfairly labelled legume
And restore it to its rightful place where it once more may bloom
Like a cleaned, restored Old Master, a refurbished classic car
As good as oil of castor, the five star brassica.
Some may moan and cry for help
And groan out loud if offered kelp.
While others quail, and kick and shout
And turn quite pale, at the thought of sprouts.
And then there’s those, who duck and cower
And turn up their nose at the cauliflower.
And this same team will not risk the mockery
Of being seen enjoying broccoli.
But there are men, free men prepared to stand
And defend, till death, these fruits of our land.
Monet, Renoir, the bearded Pissarro
They didn’t paint the pea or the marrow.
No, for them, there was no finer joy
Than to fix, on canvas, the sweet green savoy.
I do love cabbage and Brussel sprouts but they stink up the house, requiring open doors and windows. Great ode to some forgotten veggies.
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Much underrated I agree though my mother, surrounded as she was by three gaseous males limited our intake purely on her own health grounds
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I love all my greens 💜💜💜
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Save the planet; fart with a friend!!
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Yes indeed …or would be like cows causing damage 🙄
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One you didn’t mention and maybe for the better. I still can’t get my head around the lowly rutabaga
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I’m sure that’s really an illegal sexual practice in certain archipelagos.
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Confined to the back country I’m sure.
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Oh you wicked man…
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Dang me.
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Is that allowed in Texas?
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Yup
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Wonderful, Geoff. I love the brassicas–all of them, and can’t understand why they are so reviled. (Perhaps it’s because in the past, people boiled them to death.)
Just one little quibble with your poem, though. Cabbage is not a legume. Legumes are peas and beans and that family. (Incidentally, also clover, sweet peas, laburnum, lupins, and over 12,000 other plants.
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Oh cruel critic, denying my poetic inaccuracies!!
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Love this poem! Thanks for the grin and also a new pronunciation for cabbage in order to rhyme: cab beige.
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Some of the greens we were served at school were so overboiled they were indeed beige. No wonder it took so long to learn to love them.
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I hear you. Why did the earlier generation think everything had to be overboiled?
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