“Kay Yeff Cee. Kay Yeff Cee. Kay Yeff Cee. Kay Yeff Cee.” Lionel’s voice wasn’t that loud, but it had the defiant, white-lipped force of a football chant. “Kay Yeff Cee. Kay Yeff Cee. Kay Yeff Cee.“ They lowered their trays, and sat facing each other over a ledge of zebra-patterned laminate, unzipping little sachets of ketchup, mustard, sweet relish; they sampled their Sprites through the fat straws, and started on the chips and the Kentucky-fried chicken. [ … ] ”Oy. You not eating you dinner. Eat you dinner. Eat you dinner.”
Martin Amis: Lionel Asbo
A Table richly spred, in regal mode,
With dishes pil’d, and meats of noblest sort
And savour, Beasts of chase, or Fowl of game,
In pastry built, or from the spit, or boyl’d,
Gris-amber-steam’d; all Fish from Sea or Shore,
Freshet, or purling Brook, of shell or fin,
And exquisitest name, for which was drain’d
Pontus and Lucrine Bay, and Afric Coast.
Alas how simple, to these Cates compar’d,
Was that crude Apple that diverted Eve!” Paradise Regained
‘I’ve eaten many strange and scrumptious dishes in my time,
Like jellied gnats and dandyprats and earwigs cooked in slime,
And mice with rice - they’re really nice
When roasted in their prime.
(But don’t forget to sprinkle them with just a pinch of grime.)
‘I’ve eaten fresh mudburgers by the greatest cooks there are,
And scrambled dregs and stinkbugs’ eggs and hornets stewed in tar,
And pails of snails and lizards’ tails,
And beetles by the jar.
(A beetle is improved by just a splash of vinegar.)
‘I often eat boiled slobbages. They’re grand when served beside
Minced doodlebugs and curried slugs. And have you ever tried
Mosquitoes’ toes and wampfish roes
Most delicately fried?
(The only trouble is they disagree with my inside.)
‘I’m mad for crispy wasp-stings on a piece of buttered toast,
And pickled spines of porcupines. And then a gorgeous roast
Of dragon’s flesh, well hung, not fresh -
It costsa pound at most,
(And comes to you in barrels if you order it by post.)
‘I crave the tasty tentacles of octopi for tea
I like hot-dogs, I LOVE hot-frogs, and surely you’ll agree
A plate of soil with engine oil’s
A super recipe.
(I hardly need to mention that it’s practically free.)
‘For dinner on my birthday shall I tell you what I chose:
Hot noodles made from poodles on a slice of garden hose -
And a rather smelly jelly
Made of armadillo’s toes.
(The jelly is delicious, but you have to hold your nose.)
‘Now comes,’the Centipede declared,’the burden of my speech:
These foods are rare beyond compare - some are right out of reach;
But there’s no doubt I’d go without
A million plates of each
For one small mite,
One tiny bite
Of this FANTASTIC PEACH!’
— Roald Dahl
Assorted Hors d’oeuvre, Sydney Style
Harengs refroidis
Filets of Sole, Sydney
Roasted Fox
Pilot’s Salad
Mousse Tour Eiffel
Fruit Canopy
Demitasse” Kenneth Koch’s prose
staring at the braised lamb shanks, the patterns
those tiny, coagulated rivulets of fat make,
both knees about to go out from under you.” August Kleinzahler: “A History of Western Music Chapter 63: Whitney Houston”
stuffing) cranberry sauce, applesauce,
white potatoes, broccoli, salad with
dressing including one dark olive, cookies
and ice (dark olive how I luf you) cream
and cake and the snow outside coming down” A R Ammons, “Analysis Mines and Leaves to Heal” (from The Snow Poems)
Went under once, only to surface
Alongside the raft of a banquet-table—
A whole roast pig, its mouth fixed on an apple.” Muldoon, “Immram”
