The Fiery Fury of Flavour
In Worcestershire’s green vibrant land,
Where the Severn flows hand in hand.
A tale is born of craft and taste,
Of porcelain and dishes graced.
In kilns of fire, where sweat was earned,
The potter’s wheel was swiftly turned.
From humble clay by skillful hand,
Came teacups, plates—a bounty grand.
Royal Worcester, still famed and bright,
Brought elegance to every sight.
With gilded edge and flowers fair,
Porcelain remains beyond compare.
Chamberlain’s artistry, renowned,
In Worcester’s fame was firmly bound.
Their patterns rich, and colours bold,
Created heirlooms to long behold.
Grainger’s works, with detail fine,
Showed mastery in each design.
And Barr’s exquisite craftsmanship,
Brought beauty with a subtle grip.
In kitchens where the hearth was warm,
Another craft took perfect form,
With recipes from age-old lore,
A Worcestershire flavour, none could ignore.
The sauce, a secret blend so rare,
A taste that chefs still do declare.
With vinegar and anchovy’s kiss,
Umami-rich and tangy bliss.
From markets where the produce gleamed,
To table spreads where feasts are dreamed.
The county’s fare in grandeur set,
A worldwide banquet, a grand vignette.
Through centuries of change and stride,
Both art and food in hearts abide.
Porcelain and sauces blend,
May Worcestershire’s legend, never end.
By Jay Rose Ana
Poet and founder of Mini Poetry Press