A thousand cooks on TV do try,
With exotic dishes to catch our eye.
The jaded palate cries out each day
For some new concoction with which to play.
Mangetout with tarragon makes me wince
While for after there's plums in quince.
Whatever happened to lamb chops,
Followed by rhubarb with cream that clots.
We're in an escapist world of fast food
With chicken vindaloo in silver tray on which to brood.
If we're not careful, we'll have to emigrate
To plainer cultures to regurgitate! By Ian Platt
Thornton Avenue
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