In a Georgian Kitchen
The maids and the footman are busy polishing cutlery,
ears cocked for the bell.
They shine glasses, check the Worcester china,
no smears allowed.
The dining table will be set, wealth on display,
servants have worked on it for hours.
Cook starts a bowl of smoking bishop,
a steaming-hot boozy snifter.
She roasts Seville oranges until blackened.
The drink is a smoking mix of port, oranges, spices
served in an extravagant
mitre-shaped punch bowl,
by Worcester, of course.
Earlier, she prepared Lenten pie;
made pastry; created a concoction:
a handful of lettuce, leeks,
spinach, beets and parsley;
she boiled, chopped, added to groats with onions,
fried them in butter with herbs, apple, salt,
they stewed for a few minutes over the fire;
she filled the raised crust and baked,
to be dished up with mutton.
Cook looks forward to the leftovers.
She sends the kitchen maid to the pantry
to fetch pompion bread.
The moist, sweet bread lasts a month
if the mice don’t get at it.
Now on opulent bread plates
—Worcester, naturally—
it’s offered, from the left, by the footman.
Pudding choices complete the evening,
Georgian tart,
Duchess of Cleaveland pancakes,
or exotic seed cake made with brandy.
There’ll be none of that left.
Cook arranges the desserts,
delicate and divine,
on precious porcelain.
By Polly Stretton
Polly’s poems have been printed in numerous anthologies and featured online. Polly’s latest poetry collection ‘Growing Places’, was published in 2021 by Black Pear Press. She is the Chair of Open University Poets, and a member of The Society of Authors.