At the Institute of Culinary Arts

While doing a pastry chef course I was experiencing some dissonance between the somewhat luxuries I'm dealing with and the bad economy in the country and the world. This is a descriptive, straightforward poem about it.

At the Institute of Culinary Arts

It's all bright and glossy

Wooden benches and shiny plasma screens

Hypnotize you with culinary works of art

Chefs and students wearing white jackets walk around

Joke around

Wonder around

As if there's nothing on their mind

Besides a fancy recipe or an expensive product

"I made crème fraîche from scratch!"

Said the student with the dark hair

And we all applaud

"Who wants to purchase Dutch butter and Amarena cherries?"

Asks someone, and I ask politely "how much it costs?"


And it seems as if we're in a bubble

In candy land

When the chef explains how to fold the pastry puff

The dish washers and cleaners pass by

And I wonder what's on their mind

When they see us put all this money on such luxuries

Do they laugh inside and think we live in La La land?

People try to make a living, thankful for everyday they work

And here we whip the crème and develop the gluten

As if it's the most important thing in the world

Be careful! The dough might break! The cake can burn!

But the chefs might be dissatisfied with the cleaning

And then we're out (think the cleaners)

Two worlds, one is chocolate glazed

The other covered with dust and soap

Meet together

At the Institute of Culinary Arts.



The End

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