After twelve hours of peeling, chopping, baking, blending,
bitching, boiling, blisters, stirring, sifting and setting
(whilst sweating like a racehorse-running-the-Preakness)
Modah single-handedly produced a Thanksgiving dinner
of pornographic proportions.
A roasted turkey reclined in its Rubenesque glory on the table,
surrounded by serving bowls of salty, slurpable starches
and greasy/sweet sauces, Continue reading