A Sonnet for the Pantry
From East Indies Raj to the British isle,
With Allspice, Onion, Clove and Cochineal,
To tempt a queen and rule a Virgin housewife.
From conquered state to table, won sans strife.
This ubiquitous sauce pours slowly out
Onto fries and burgers, purists shout.
But renegades do exist who slather
Heedlessly, omelets and steak with wild bonheur.
Classified now, I’d say, as comfort food,
A condiment, a necessity truly good.
My pantry stocked full with more than one
To satisfy him, my blue-eyed son.
Who eats with sliced onion, thickly spread
His ketchup on plain white bread.
Author: Rachel Larensen
Photo: Nadia Pimenova on Unsplash
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