The Poet and The Cook is our exercise in inspiration. We both have found that there is an abundance of inspiration to use around us, especially each other.
We have devised this space to showcase how two completely unrelated passions can become a muse to the other.
Some days The Poet will send The Cook a piece she has penned and The Cook will take that poem and stir it up into something edible. Other days The Cook will whip up a dish for The Poet to taste and she takes the crumbs and magically turns them into a poem.
Enjoy our world of sparks, and we hope you find something inspiring.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
Dancing Corn Chowder

For The Circle Dance
8 slices thick cut bacon, cut into 1 inch pieces
1 large onion diced
1 clove garlic, minced
2 mini green peppers seeded and diced (or one seeded jalapeno)
1 red pepper, seeded and diced
2 dried arbol chiles broken up ****optional
1/4 cup flour
2 teaspoon cumin powder
1 chipotle chile in adobo sauce diced
5 potatoes peeled and cut into 1/2 inch cubes
3 ears of corn
3 cups chicken stock
2 cups milk
1 cup heavy cream
Garnishes
cilantro
green onions
tomatoes
queso fresco
Heat a large soup pot over medium heat and add bacon. Cook bacon until crisp and remove from pot and drain fat. Reserve 3 tablespoons of bacon fat in the pot and add the onion, pepper, garlic, red pepper, cumin powder and arbol chile. Saute over medium heat for 3 minutes until the vegetables are tender. If there is no visible bacon fat add another tablespoon. Sprinkle the flour over the vegetables and stir to combine. Add in a small amount of salt and pepper. Heat for 4 minutes stirring occasionally. Add chipotle chile, chicken stock, milk, potatoes and corn. I like to scrape the cob with a spoon over the pot so all the sweet corn "milk" is in the pot. Turn the heat up and bring the soup to a boil. Once it's boiling turn the heat down to a simmer and partially cover with a lid. Stir occasionally and simmer for 15-20 minutes or until the potatoes and corn are cooked. Remove from heat and stir in heavy cream. Check if it needs any additional salt. Serve in bowls and top with reserved bacon and any garnish you wish.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Circle Dance
Southwest Museum, LA
It is slow to start,
the drumming only an echo
rising from animal hide.
The rhythm recalls the beating
of hooves along a painted desert.
Young girls move in subtle steps,
around this circle of men
and their drums, wearing shawls
with tassels that dance
as the pace quickens.
The oldest moves instinctively,
her shawl the most ornate—
black with shiny bursts of color,
a rainbow of tassels encircle her.
She is the deer, light and swift
running from the high pitched
chants of the men on horseback
their bodies vibrating in unison.
Earth, animal, man—one.
The drum grows louder,
the dancing feverish.
But her eyes are calm,
her expression, serene.
She knows about the cycle,
that she is life, it grows inside of her.
She is the deer resurrected in ritual.
She is the force that will bring forth
a little girl, like the one that walks
beside her, with small steps, mesmerized,
by the beauty of her movements.
The child asking to learn the steps
of the dance that was born in her,
not realizing, yet, she too is the deer.
She, too, is life.
It is slow to start,
the drumming only an echo
rising from animal hide.
The rhythm recalls the beating
of hooves along a painted desert.
Young girls move in subtle steps,
around this circle of men
and their drums, wearing shawls
with tassels that dance
as the pace quickens.
The oldest moves instinctively,
her shawl the most ornate—
black with shiny bursts of color,
a rainbow of tassels encircle her.
She is the deer, light and swift
running from the high pitched
chants of the men on horseback
their bodies vibrating in unison.
Earth, animal, man—one.
The drum grows louder,
the dancing feverish.
But her eyes are calm,
her expression, serene.
She knows about the cycle,
that she is life, it grows inside of her.
She is the deer resurrected in ritual.
She is the force that will bring forth
a little girl, like the one that walks
beside her, with small steps, mesmerized,
by the beauty of her movements.
The child asking to learn the steps
of the dance that was born in her,
not realizing, yet, she too is the deer.
She, too, is life.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Cut Thin Salad

Cut Thin Salad
For The Truth
Salad
1 mango cut into thin matchsticks*
1 green zucchini
4 very thin slices off an onion 1 jalapeƱo seeded very thinly sliced lengthwise
½ red pepper very thinly sliced lengthwise
1 Tablespoon chopped fresh mint (cilantro is another option here too)
Dressing
½ inch piece of fresh ginger peeled and grated
juice of 1 lime (about 2 Tablespoons)
1 Tablespoon honey
3 Tablespoons light oil – vegetable, grape seed, light olive oil
salt and pepper
Slice the zucchini lengthwise into very thin planks, then cut the planks again lengthwise forming spaghetti like pieces. Add zucchini, jalapeno, mango and pepper to a bowl. Rinse off the thinly sliced onion under cold water to mellow it out and add it to the other vegetables. In a small bowl mix together ginger, lime juice, honey and oil. Add salt and pepper to taste. Pour the dressing over the salad and add the chopped mint, toss to coat. I like to let it sit on the counter for a couple minutes so the zucchini soaks up some flavor. Serve over grilled fish, chicken or greens.
*It is much easier to cut a mango into thin slices if it is green, however, a greener mango is not as sweet. If you opt for a greener mango, you may want to add a hint more honey to your dressing.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
The Truth
The Truth
I am raw, cut lengthwise.
closer to something that was being hidden
by all these layers thought to protect me.
I realize now that we are the same.
Not merely like each other,
we are each other.
You leave, but you are not
gone. I have never lost anyone.
Not even the dead.
I am raw, cut lengthwise.
closer to something that was being hidden
by all these layers thought to protect me.
I realize now that we are the same.
Not merely like each other,
we are each other.
You leave, but you are not
gone. I have never lost anyone.
Not even the dead.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Inspired Dining: Modern Steak

The Poet took me out for an incredible dinner for my birthday. We planned on going to Culinary Drop Out to check out the hype, but apparently everyone else had heard the buzz as well. The wait was quite long so we hopped across the street to Modern Steak, another Fox concept to find the bar nearly empty and the wait considerably shorter.
I have to say, the decor had me as soon as I walked in. Modern steak decor is a mix of swanky classic lines, with updated color and some bursts of eclectic modern flare. You'll find a marble table top sitting on heavy columns and ever so beautifully a lucite container of orchids is resting on top.

We opted to start our meal (and ultimately finish it) in the bar and had a nice little view of the dining room (above). I will say that our drinks were the only thing that fell a tiny bit short. The Poet likes her martini's extra dirty, and apparently Modern Steak likes it clean. I decided to branch out and try a Negroni and found that those are a whole lot of kick for this lady.


So apparently when we go out to a steak house we order anything but steak. I am not the least bit sorry for my dinner. Scallops seared to perfection with a truffled clementine vinaigrette that was so close to caramel sauce that it isn't right. YUM. The poet, a maple bacon glazed salmon with sweet potato. She was nice enough to share a handsome piece of this and it was amazing.

After dinner espresso arrived in the most impressive way. Insulated cups with sugar cubes and tiny spoons. This is how every espresso should be served.

Dessert was an apple pie warm and perfect with house made ice cream on the side. The ice cream is amazing and the apple pie was absolutely wonderful. It was such a dreamy evening of good conversation, good food and beautiful atmosphere.
We were swooning over the decor and the bathroom was perhaps the most inspiring place of the evening. Just outside the loo was this dresser.

This is filed under I want this in my house for the both of us. But just you wait, the ladies room was completely swanky.

I could easily have sipped my espresso while laying back on this couch. The wall paper was a perfect tone on tone pink flower that wasn't overpowering at all. Each little stall had an equally brilliant metallic silver wall paper that sounds gaudy but manages to be subtle while sparkly.
This evening was so sparkly and inspiring on so many levels. Thanks Poet for taking me out of my shell and bringing beauty to me. I love you!
Friday, February 18, 2011
Thank You For My Cookies
Cook,
These cookies felt like home to me also. Home, being the place, physically or within ourselves, where we find peace and comfort. Thanks for the inspiration...
After I Made You Cookies

Unexpected
Even on a day heavy with glare
Off the clouds
There is a warmth coming from
The boards of the dock
As if they were still living things.
I expected wind, but it's still.
I thought I would be cold, but there is warmth.
I felt I was missing you,
But the shallow water is already lapping you away.
I was sad, but all I see is perfection.
These cookies felt like home to me also. Home, being the place, physically or within ourselves, where we find peace and comfort. Thanks for the inspiration...
After I Made You Cookies

Unexpected
Even on a day heavy with glare
Off the clouds
There is a warmth coming from
The boards of the dock
As if they were still living things.
I expected wind, but it's still.
I thought I would be cold, but there is warmth.
I felt I was missing you,
But the shallow water is already lapping you away.
I was sad, but all I see is perfection.
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