If I was a menu item I would be an entrée of Nepalese Momos.
I like to think of food as a stage production the warm up act (entrée), followed by the ‘Main’ show.
As Entrée I am the first act for this lovely evening.
Though I’m not just a ‘warm’ up act, I’m better fried.
I was born for this role tonight,
From your very first bite, I am simply a delight.
Giggle at my name, I am here to put other dumplings to shame,
I am Cleaver, simple I’d agree,
Mince chicken, red onion, coriander,
but tasteless? I say Never!
Like any good host I make sure to greet all my seated guest before the main act
See me dance from table to table as I am offered around the room.
Finally I make my way to yours,
Smelling green chilli, ginger, garlic
good service is no fable,
“Call me Momo, I say” I’ll be your Entrée for this evening. “Momo is my name, and flavour is my game.”
Is that an accent you hear. I say “ah what a keen ear.”
“I was born in the back room over there, but I have a rich history elsewhere,
with turmeric, cumin spilling flavours of the south east Asian mountains,
ideas all the way from Nepal,.”
Admiring me now stuffed in a neat wonton jacket ,
Filled to delight, at the start of your night,
Good on my own better with a sauce, but you know that of course.
Why do I want to be an entrée you say?
The first on stage, the fresh crowd, heighten the excitement, set the mood for the night.
After me you know you are in for a good evening.
I am class, an art piece each part of me shaped to be admired
I have a few jokes up my sleeve; don’t be alarmed, I’m 100% good taste,
An so I take my bow with your final bite,
too you and your company, I bid you a good night.
a taste just enough to have the wanting more.
Who knows this humble entrée might make an encore.
BENT ON LOVE 