T’was a Night in the Kitchen
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through’ the kitchen
Not a chef was stirring, nor washing the dishes
The pots were all cleaned and put back on the shelf
Knowing tomorrow it would be back to work for this elf
Our company had long ago gone to sleep,
While a pot of turkey bones silently did steep.
Removing my tunic and old chef’s hat
I had decided to partake in a stiff nightcap
When out in the kitchen the smoke alarm rang
I ran back to the galley and spouted some slang
I had rendered our festive dinner to ash,
And proceeded to quietly take it out to the trash
While back in the house I poured some Chablis
And ended up on the couch to watch some TV.
When, what to my bloodshot eyes should appear,
But some bloke on the network cooking with cheer
He was straining a sauce with a ladle and colander
Later it mentioned that his name was something Oliver
Soon my eyes were drooping and I began to nod,
As my mind was dreaming now immersed in egg nog.
Back in the kitchen I found myself looking
As this chap named Oliver was standing there cooking
He was calling out names of chefs, who arrived,
Through my exhaust fan looking rather surprised
Now Ramsey! Now Batali!, Now Lagasse! and Flay
“On De Laurentiis!, On Pepin!, On Puck! and Ray
They were dressed in chef whites and ready to cook
I interrupted them and asked them to sign their latest cook book
The pots and pans they began to rattle
As these chefs ironically prepared to do battle
Ramsey started off with a furious expletive
Which is why I believe he is a distant blood relative
Batali somewhat sweaty with red hair and round belly
Shook when he laughed, like a slab of pork belly
Lagasse was shucking a pail full of clams
His eyes how they twinkled! When he shouted out BAM!
Flay with a free-range turkey flung over his back,
Looked like a cook from not just any barbecue shack.
De Laurentiis pulled out her knives which she honed
While this everyday personality looked already at home
Pepin the French chef worked rather free and wild
And that’s okay with me because I too lament for Julia Child
Puck and Ray the ever famed culinary tycoons
Were smiling and working on a curried crab Rangoon
It was obvious now that our Christmas dinner would not be traditional
As it seemed this merry feast would border on being biblical.
With a wink of their eyes and a twist of the pepper mill
I knew that Christmas dinner would not see us dining on krill
With a dash of caraway and a dash of dill, I sliced up the fillet
And fired up the chaffing dishes, Christmas dinner this year would be served up buffet.
What to do next I was no longer sure
I was just thankful that we would not dine on manure
All chefs on hand were given thanks and gingerbread
As they returned where they came from I went straight to bed
With the bread in the bread maker using fresh baker’s yeast
I wish Happy Holidays to all, and to all a good feast!
