WHERE’S THE BEEF?
All this talk about us having to cut back on beef to save the planet made me think of burgers and summer and the grá we Irish have for this American, now Irish, favourite.
Every August Monday we run a parish fund-raiser and every year a burger stall is a welcome part of the mix. My job for the last couple of years has been organizing the accompaniments table – the lettuce and ketchup and mayonnaise and whatever you’re having yourself to dress said burgers.
It was a very interesting experience watching people create their tasty tiers. It wasn’t long before I realized just how fussy we all are when it comes to this kind of dressing – me included. Ketchup, yes, mayo, no, not there – on the bottom bun, lettuce, yes, but not that much… Talk about precision. Talk about finicky! It was all such a revelation that I had to write a poem about it. I like a funny poem. Read it aloud, with feeling, to really get the flavour of it.
A MATTER OF TASTE
They all had their own way
Of doing it
Dressing their burger
Hot field-day fare
As sun beat down
Tannoy crackled
And Wheel of Fortune spun
They queued
To add cheese
Ketchup
Mayo
Onion
Lettuce
Be particular about
What they put on
No point in eating it
Unless it was right
Tickled their tastebuds
Satisfied their hunger
For flavour
She watched them layer
Build the bap
From the bottom up
No slapdash arrangement
The order important
Lettuce
Be particular
Saw mothers deftly dressing
While fathers had to ask
Each child
Bun burgers
Works of art
Perhaps bad for the heart
But hitting the spot
Who gave a jot
When the day it was hot
And hunger it had to be fed
So they layered and arranged
A squirt there
A blob here
Perhaps mustard in the middle –
It was well worth the fiddle
So teeth could be sunk
Into the perfect combination
Experience the delectation
Of their burger being
Just So.
©Margaret Hawkins 2018
P.S. I’m putting all the poems together soon into a collection – and other bits and bobs that might give people a smile – or a sigh – I hope. I will keep you posted.
