A poem to Nigel Slater

Nigel, I think I love you.  You’re just the perfect man.

The way you know what herbs to pick,

The way you handle a pan.

Your programmes make me hungry

Even when I’ve eaten.

Your food’s so tasty looking,

Presentation can’t be beaten.

You use the freshest items,

That you’ve grown and then selected.

Your recipes are works of art,

That you’ve made and then perfected.

Your little tips and hints are great

It almost gives me hope,

Yet when I try to cook the stuff it tastes like granny’s soap.

So I sit here with my weetabix

And a cup of lukewarm tea.

And I wish that you would come round here

And make some food for me.

I don’t need home-made ice-cream,

With caramelized fruit,

I’d just love a cooked breakfast

That didn’t taste like ‘boot’.

So Nigel, can you visit?

And cook me up a treat?

Oh, just one thing, before you come,

I don’t eat fish or meat.

Thanks, Nigel!

2 thoughts on “A poem to Nigel Slater

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