Fleur de Sel

Fleur de Sel

Salt and sauce share etymology,

not far from suspicious soupçon – for

soup is suppa, the bread we daily dunk.

Salads are such because sol/sal/sale/sel/salz

tempers bitter green earth, and seawater is

three times saltier than blood, the salty

old man of the sea sails thicker than water,

holds 35% of its weight, dissolved.


A child can identify salt at half-strength, a pinch

compared to an adult, but a babe at birth

knows first sugar at the breast, then salt,

sprinkled from tears,

tasted from skin,

the sweat of labor passed.


Sugar is our first passion, salt our essential kiss of life,

and sauce, 

sauce is the distillation of desire.


Na/GloPoWriMo Day Twenty-Four’s prompt is to write a poem inspired by a reference book.  My food science go-to came out:  Harold McGee’s On Food And Cooking: The Science And Lore Of The Kitchen.  If you ever need to know how and why your sauce broke, or what amylopectin does, McGee is your guy.





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