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Dear saucepan,
You are the best, you help me the most
Be it poha or upma or curry, you finish it even in a hurry
Not one day passes without you on fire, I salute you for that sire
Sorry to ask you for more, but just so that I don’t go sore
“Can you gimme a signal when curry’s done, so that I don’t have to peek every 5 mins?”
Dear spatula,
You help me poke, while the other things soak
When I spin you fast, You spill vast
I know it’s partly my fault, but you know I can’t halt
Sorry to ask you for more, but just so that I don’t go sore
“Can you cut down the spilling a little?”
Dear chotu pressure cooker,
As mom’s gift you came, you cook quite the same
I thank you for that, for each whistle you let off your hat
You let me do other dishes, while your top hisses
Sorry to ask you for more, but just so that I don’t go sore
“Can you give a different signal when whatever inside you is rightly done?”
Dear motu pressure cooker,
Not for daily use I wish, but rice you cook is the main dish
You are too huge to lift, there is no other vessel to which I can shift
But when it’s the time for guests, you are nothing but the best
Sorry to ask you for more, but just so that I don’t go sore
“Can you become less heavier by dieting or something?”
Dear casserole or to use your nickname hot-pack,
You hold a variety of dishes for me, preserving them as they should be
Keeping them piping hot, the dishes remaining so soft
Do try to taste what’s inside, keeping that I’m not a great cook aside
Sorry to ask you for more, but just so that I don’t go sore
“Can you correct the salt, chilli levels if they are a tad wrong?”
Dear blender,
It’s only your small jar I use, but in that all ingredients fuse
We are only two, we don’t need anything bigger too
Pristine and white, you are a pretty sight,
Sorry to ask you for more, but just so that I don’t go sore
“Can you develop two hands and clean yourself?”
Dear wet grinder,
I come to you once a week, but you loyally do what I seek
You take a lot of time, taking an hour to chime
Even though it’s a weekend, I need some leisure time to spend
Sorry to ask you for more, but just so that I don’t go sore
“Can you finish the grinding a little faster?”
Dear scrubber,
You are a favorite pet, you wipe the cooking stage wet
You know I am a messy cook, you take me off that hook
You become dirtier by day, though I wash you everyday
Sorry to ask you for more, but just so that I don’t go sore
“Can you fly like Aladdin’s magic carpet and clean as I spill?”
Dear Dosa griddle,
With much hope I poured batter on you, but you didn’t like it being new
You rebelled on washing, and went on dosa mashing
I had to exchange you with my expert mom, heard that with her you kept mum
Sorry to ask you for more, but just so that I don’t go sore
“Can you become more mature so that I can take you as mine?”
To all the other vessels, spatulas, ladles, spoons and everyone else,
Don’t be mad for the generic mention, you do cut out a lot of my tension
You get fried and frozen, but in the sink definitely don’t lessen,
Cool your bottoms in the sink, but let me clean you in a wink,,
Sorry to ask you for more, but just so that I don’t go sore
“Can you clean yourselves and jump into the drying tub after cooling your bottoms a bit?”
I know the post has gotten too long. I started it as something else but this came out and I was enjoying it so much that it kept coming. There is so much more but to do justice to your patience I stop here.
Until later 🙂
P.S: I am writing so much about cooking and household stuff after marriage. Guess I had more of mom in me than I thought, hope that I make as much as a good home maker as she is.
          
