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