'Now Muse, you must versify your very best, <br />To sing how they ransack the East and the West, <br />To tell how they plunder the North and the South <br />For food for the stomach and zest for the mouth! <br />Such savoury stews, and such odorous dishes, <br />Such soups, and (at Calais) such capital fishes! <br />With sauces so strange they disguise the lean meat <br />That you seldom, or never, know what you're to eat; <br />Such fricandeaux, fricassees epicurean, <br />Such vins-ordinaires, and such banquets Circean,-- <br />And the nice little nothings which very soon vanish <br />Before you are able your plate to replenish,-- <br />Such exquisite eatables! and for your drink <br />Not porter or ale, but--what do you think? <br />'Tis Burgundy, Bourdeaux, real red rosy wine, <br />Which you quaff at a draught, neat nectar, divine! <br />Thus they pamper the taste with everything good <br />And of an old shoe can make savoury food, <br />But the worst of it is that when you have done <br />You are nearly as famish'd as when you begun!'<br /><br />Martin Farquhar Tupper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-praise-of-french-cuisine/
