Invited to Supper

To-night, grave sir, both my poore house, and I
Doe equally desire your companie:
Not that we thinke us worthy such a guest,
But that your worth will dignifie our feast,
With those that come; whose grace may make that seeme
Something, which, else, could hope for no esteeme.

                Ben Jonson

And you, sweet hubber?
What shall you bring?
RSVP with pot
And phrase
Drop us a line about food. Or your feelings about food. Or the leftover food stuck to your toaster.
(Briefly, briefly).
Dismantle air-filled pouches from the freezer, flake in goodies from a quaker...Sam Barrow promises to soothe with her curried squash soup.
Polenta and chickpeas might violate stuffing,
even when covered in sage.
I’ll be wielding pen AND stuffing
These bitter tight little cabbages share a moral valence with others of their ilk: I will be good; I will eat them all.
I’ve been agonizing over what I can bring.
Phraseluck? Er, Whatever.
My muffins will be next to the stuffings and if they are overlooked, man, you’ll be missing out.
Al Filreis is bringing his children and fresh baked bread.
I will be bringing with me not one but two loaves of my mom’s green chili-cheddar spoonbread
No, mommy, the train doesn’t say “Choo choo” it says “Fisher Price.”
I’ll bring olive bread, unless my little sisters have eaten it already.
I’m tempted just to arrive with an armload of apples.
It’s bread, but you have to eat it with a spoon. That’s why it’s spoonbread.
Adrienne, are you having fun yet?
Keep the phrases and pots coming!
You should send your own cameo!
Thursday is nearly upon us. Good grief, and I swear I can’t think of what to cook or how...
A veritable slew of food...
Oh burdenous Bounty!
we shall ravage you
dip into your wet warmth
your fragrance comes
from that which men sow.
You drip down our chin
We slurp you down
In you our bellies quell
The worm sinks in the beak
and so to you, as birds we flock
to not one, but two whole
pots of crock, and it is impossible to overstate the depth of experience added by a jug or two of cheap wine!
Three Golden apples fell from Heaven-
one for me and one for you and one for the teller of this tale.
people make thanks
one corner table with Samuel Willcocks facing the crowd
New workstudies look at us inquisitively
My stuffing sits, unloved
it was cold for too long
The newest hub member is wearing a baby cap with a little bear face
I’m making people eat my stuffing by yelling at them about my life
Gotchoo- stuffing. Never to err again.
We talk about cider recipes and alcohol
I’m going to be the star!
I want to be the author and the editor
You’re just a control freak
Mohican Banana – what does that entail?
Daniel Day Lewis, I think
I want to eat that
We broke up indirectly because of the bad wine
It was like kissing a vacuum
The aloof naked girl is my personal fashion statement
It’s so so windy
We all have places we want to get
Brown takes one person a year
You’re from where I’m from
tell me who you know
You’re something else – I don’t know what that is
Let’s do an instant haiku about you
she can’t do it herself
but she writes for the daily news
another glass of wine
it would be 5-7-5 in Japanese
phil’s doing his lobster immitation
i was naked because i was changing clothes; i just didn’t kick him out of the room
i just try to be realistic... this pig game is fantastic!
These are my salad days!
Guacamole, it’s your turn to dance.
Sorry, but I am phrase-less at the moment.
I’m going for dry and sweet.
We drink and dance in the kitchen as dishes move slowly into the sink
It’s either Stomp or a reincarnation of the Cinderella story.

The Hub