Please do post the poem.  I for one, would like to read it.  I am pretty passionate about food, and cook part time in a restaurant.  I also have become a "master gardener", as designated by the state of vermont.  Many states have similar programs.  I've been experimenting in the kitchen using only ingredients I can grow and buy locally (excepting salt and pepper).  Seems like a practical use of time at this point...

There's a great new book about local, seasonal cuisine by a chef who knows about Peak Oil.  

Try Jessica Prentice's "Full Moon Feast."  

Beautifully written and full of good advice and seasonal recipies for North America.

last revised 3 April 2003

     Cecil's Kitchen

When I was a kid my favorite hangout
was Cecil's kitchen at the Commodore
Hotel which Dad managed and owned
Therefore I was a privileged child.

Cecil was fun to watch and Minnie too
They worked hard and long hours
Cecil never sat down and often
Worked from sunup to past my bedtime
When hundreds came for a banquet.

I loved banquets because there were
Always leftovers of yummy things
And if I'd been good and quiet and
No trouble at all, then I'd get some.

It was hard not to ask questions
Especially when three or four
Years old and there are so many
fascinating things and activities.

If there was a time when the kitchen
Was quiet--early morning was best
I'd ask something that I had to know
Such as, "Cecil, how do you know
When a knife is sharp enough?"

Cecil spend a lot of time sharpening
and honing his knives and cleaver
But he'd sharpen the same knife
Several times a day and I wondered
How sharp is sharp enough.

I have been wondering about
Deep Questions for a long time
And this was an Important Question
To which Cecil had the answer:

"The knife is sharp enough when
You can do this," he said as he
Plucked a hair from my head and
Barely touched it to the blade
An inch of hair floats to the floor.

Wonderful

Cecil enjoyed his work Because
He was absolute master in his
Kitchen and Because everybody knew
He was one of the best chefs
In St. Paul and some thought the
Very best.

Sometimes customers asked Cecil
To come out of the kitchen
And go to their table so they could
Thank him and give compliments.

He would tell the waiter
To say he was too busy
But that he appreciated
the compliment and if the waiter
came back a second time with
The message that the customer
Insisted on seeing Cecil, then he would straighten his hat
And go out to talk with the customers
He liked that.

Nobody dissed Cecil
Because he was the best
He would examine a delivery
Of food to be Sure it was the Best.

Woe struck anybody who did
Not give him the Best whether
It was vegetables or Hard Work
In his kitchen

Because

He had a temper and you did
Not want to see him angry

Once I saw him throw an old
Cleaver to stick deep in a breadboard or something
That was nailed up to the wall way
Across the kitchen Because
Something not perfect made him so
Angry he had to cleave the board instead of the one who let him down.

Terrifying

But usually
If anything was not right
Then Cecil would call for Dad
Who listened to every word
And then did whatever Cecil wanted
Right away.

Because
My father made the Commodore
Profitable
After many losing years.

I knew Cecil was the key person
Who brought regular customers who
Also told their friends about the
Great Food which I knew was great.

The aromas were delicious and
From my little nook--sort of a
Top shelf with rarely used supplies
Under my short feet that dangled
A foot above the floor.

I watched and watched and listened
And enjoyed the smells the scrumptious
Odors and also the beautiful plates of food
Just before the waiters took them out.

And
I learned a lot
Because I'm a good
Listener and also Observant
But mostly because
I Pondered for hours on end as to
What things mean and which
Questions were intelligent enough to ask when Cecil was not very busy

Cecil was God in His kitchen

And
He liked me.