Haven't written in awhile, so I thought I'd dust off the keyboard with some simple clerihews. Clerihews are semi-biographical poems consisting of two rhyming couplets, invented by an author of the same name. Here we go.
Chef Roberts' many rages,
won't be read about in pages.
Just the things he did with art,
the food he ate, that smelly fart.
I guess they're supposed to be funny, too. The above is a Clerihew based on the life of my former (as of today) boss, Chef Kevin Roberts of the Black Sheep in Richmond, VA. You may have heard about B.S. as it was on Man vs. Food, that terrible show where fat guy Adam Richman "conquers" food like it's some towering empire of obesity threatening to cleave our children and steal our dignity. Food isn't out to do either. For most of us. Luckily, Roberts respects food and clearly allows the show in his kitchen for publicity, not ideology.
Roberts has an art background and is quite good. People will talk about this, if they haven't already, in paper one day. "The food he ate," refers to his southern influences, primarily that of New Orleans. Food served at Black Sheep consists of twists on southern staples. His mustard-based "remoulade" goes well with apples and cabbage on the U.S.S. Virginia, a foot long baguette packed with deep-fried chicken livers. Shit is good.
Now, I don't believe this will ever be read on paper. Just on pixels, glass-- just here. Or nowhere. Dude had mad G.I. problems, some of the worst I.B.S. I've been privy to hear-tell and on occasion would shit blood. No joke. Perhaps this is the cause of his unchecked aggression. Or vice versa. I'M SO MAD I AM SHITTING BLOOD. EVERYWHERE. But more realistically, I AM SO MAD I AM BURNING MY EMPLOYEES ON PURPOSE, RRRRAAAAGGGHHH!!!!
Comments