It's Oscars time. Somebody wake the Grouch.

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Salsa, Oh Muse of the Bistro!

One of our memberships' favorite pastimes has always been meeting in Mexican restaurants for a delightful repast of various types of chicken and steak Asada, always accompanied by a healthy (or unhealthy, depending on your viewpoint) portion of chips and hot salsas.

If Dylan Thomas had been a fellow salsa-eating, chili head, I like to think this is one of the poems he might have written:

Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Dip

Do not go gentle into that good dip,
Old age should turn and sip at milk and whey;
Rage, rage against the frying of the lips.

Though wise men in their hand know heat on chip,
Because they had tasted no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good dip.

Good men, the heat wave like a flaying whip
Their frail tongues might have danced in guacamole,
Rage, rage against the frying of the lips.

Wild men who caught and sang peppers in grip,
And learn, too late, the burning on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good dip.

Grave men, near death, who ate with bitter quips
Blind eyes could blaze like haba
neros and Ben Gay,
Rage, rage against the frying of the lips.

And you, my friend, there now shout,”Ole!,”
Dip, munch, chips now thru your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good dip.
Rage, rage against the frying of the lips.