The Stock Cube

The stock cube was back, she could almost hear its scent all over the house…

So here we are once more stock cube...

I had closed all the presses and blocked all the broken windows and still you sneak in with your mono- Sodium glutamate propaganda, easy sneak through the veranda that no longer exists since the first floor  has been out of bounds.

You are here fully convinced in your en masse square face, you are fully convinced of your nobility of sentiment in all matters of the heart related…

You are, you are! Can you hear my demi cynical laugh as I nod in agreement, oh yes you are, convinced to your cubed little core that you were within your rights to ruin my kitchen and my palate.

You can’t really stay, I don't want to swallow my bowels through my heart again , Oh no I don't , I nod again, it took me a while but eventually and with some careful training I forgot your taste.

So let me tell you a story, not of the bedtime type, little stock cube in a hurry to go out and Knorr sprinkle your life. Stock  cube are you listening? Listen, it took me a long time to get the house this perfect and strangely enough, well a lot more than enough,  I became house proud. Yes, yes I nodded joyfully this time! I got quite tidy and crafty, listen I was practically Doris Day!

Oh such happy times those early days , I got the hang of it pretty quickly , Big Daddy and Mamma , always said that I was smart,  I nod , this time with gusto. Oh stock cube, you will never guess!  When my feelings were ever so raw and I wanted to cry, I knew that only the finest of crochet would do.  Oh yes, when the pain was a sharp as a band of multiplied needles, I made sure I collected them one by one so no one else would get hurt.

Oh yes stock cube, plus we are also eating organic, see how the earth naps at the bottom of the pot, that is what stays , you can't wash it away, it's just life's way.  So you see,  little stocky … hey don’t try and sit on that chair, you might break it in arrogance , you are no  goldilocks and that is not your chair,  plus I don't want your granules everywhere...

Don't make yourself too comfortable stocky, I may be showing my 33 shiny teeth, but their shine is not sincere, come any closer and you will hear the sound of the trap breaking your boneless body of works. Wait.. do you recognize that knock?  Of course you do …her  fat crass hand with no compassion  for the soft  lived in wood on my door. I can see the witch  and her apple basket reflected in the neon sulphur lights.

Yes Stock cube, as I said, I even spent a fortune on the attic, spent a fortune not letting you in , I mean the last time saw you was after you were possessed by that other Bisto  cube in Londis supermarket of all last places .. nasty that was , You have no idea how many Michelin stars were removed that day , some of them even fell from their walls in a huge cosmic rejection... very bizarre...some people said it was as shocking as Linda Blair's head spinning around three times in the exorcist, others found it hard to believe that you denied  your true flavour three times at the pearly gates... Listen those are not pearls anymore, , they are diamonds now, country fresh and well fed diamonds , by God lads we are sorted... diamanté gates and all...Fat and Golden calves at the ready to be worshiped , yes  while Moses is away the cats will play.

Get away stocky I told you before, there will be no meas nor culpas at my table, I am au fecking Naturel!   From the Basilica that fell straight into the tomatoes to the curry leaves I offered to your Hare Khrisna, Excuse you Stock pot , they were 5th generation bonafide herbs and spices handed down directly from Marco Polo, No new money here, I have done this before.

 Oh I know it was beautiful, that once upon a time , the spring  with the virgin olive oil  dew and the Bambi Eyes loving you through the tall grass…But that was before the Hiroshima … Before Bambi closed her eyes…Our voids Instantly filled with the radio and the activity. I never asked you what happened … What was the point? Your tongue was already  tangled, and spun in a lie with a TIP of gravy …… But I wonder did  you forget to smell not only the roses, but the pimiento and the chocolate, the lemon and the bergamot?

 Did you think you would be dragged in glory all the way up to herself and be crowned the best there is in your bourgeois supermarket range? Did I tell you all my cooking secrets, did you keep all the onions and all the memories of failed flavour combinations in my kitchen of many colours? Your goodbye was missing a lot of E numbers and other letters, but your carving knives are still here, don’t forget them behind.

So little plain Stock  pot , cube or whatever you call yourself these days I have now said my piece and I would like to start the contagion right now. No, hard feelings and all that, yes I hope there will be many a stew for you to fall into, three chairs and a cadaver swished around in fake broth , still you knew the plot and that pound of Flesh you had been hiding underneath Shylock ‘s body after you fled with the silver coins.

Are you gone yet?

Oh I think you are, such a nuisance, that stock pot... and I wonder shall I still  light candles everywhere?  for there  will be no mantis praying on beads. There will be incense and there will be fire and the now clichéd Chinese lantern...However  because Venus has just lost her head , there will no thundering applause either. Other statues will come out of mourning with no warning and one day with a natural and fresh smelling simmer ,   we shall rise to the Acropolis , my little pet Phoenix loyally by my side ready for life in the new kitchen.