Food

Poem 692 – Three Sandwiches

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A Bacon Sandwich:
Two slices of bread with meat in between,
The perfect blend (forgive me veggies),
Both perfectly complementing each other.

A Marken Sandwich:
Two gospel stories intertwined,
The second tucked inside the first,
Giving meaning to each other.

A Human Sandwich:
The symbiotic network
That comes from living in community,
Identify found in relation to each other.

We’re looking at Mark’s Gospel at church and how he structures his narrative to communicate to us. Tonight we talked about the Marken Sandwich.
(18.09.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by amirali mirhashemian on Unsplash

Poem 518 – Boundary Market

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A cacophony of smells assaults me,
seducing me with savoury scents.
Fresh cheeses pair with delicate herbs,
sitting by artisan breads and rolls.
Pies with flavours strange and familiar,
entice in rows of crisp gold cases.
Strawberries sell by cups or punnet,
(chocolate sauce is optional).
A brazen rainbow envelops me,
its racks of exotic, colourful fruits
transport me to a foreign land.
Within these streets life is compressed,
our bodies densely stirred together,
a heady cocktail of taste and language.

We were in London today for a show at The Globe today. Arriving early we wandered over to Borough Market, a first time for me.
(17.05.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Taylor Keeran on Unsplash

Poem 354 – Bread and Cheese

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You brought bread and cheese you’d made.
We sat and ate and talked about
ourselves around this simple feast.
And as we ate we opened up
about our differences. We talked
about our cultures, tastes and dreams,
the things that make us us, and learnt.
Somehow, this daily act brought us
together, across the miles that lay
between us; it made us one. I wonder
why it sometimes seems so hard,
when all it takes is bread and cheese.

On Fridays we run our Conversation Cafe at church for people with English as a second language. It is a big highlight each week.
(15.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo by Alla Hetman on Unsplash

Poem 294 – I’ve Never Known Your Voice

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The view across the lake,
from the crest of Cader Idris.
The eyes of my life’s love as
she glances in my direction.

Feeling B.B. King’s vibrato
and Gary Moore’s sustain.
The emotional release of
an encore’s delighted applause.

The rich aroma released
from freshly ground coffee beans.
The taste of blue cheese. It shouldn’t
work but somehow it does.

Snuggling up on the sofa
and finding another’s world.
Talking to a gathered crowd
and holding them in your hands.

Discovering flamingo
mouths are upside down
so they can eat with their heads
between their distant feet.

Black and white images
formed within the womb.
The sight of freshborn signets
their feathers still damp with shell.

I’ve never known your voice,
not heard you talk out loud,
and yet, it strikes me that,
you’ve never really stopped.

Someone mentioned to me the other day that they’d heard God speak, and this got me thinking. I’ve never had that privilege, and yet…
(16.09.24)

© Ben Quant 2024
Photo NotFromUtrecht, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Poem 223 – Boxing Day Anecdote

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Catching up on poems from the last few days…

A little weary, out of rhythm,
we rise to scattered festive relics.
An anecdote is told about
a former poet laureate.
Required walking to clear our heads
and settled Christmas lethargy.
We stop to feed Egyptian and Canadian
geese and opportunistic pigeons.
Back home it’s time for lunch, comprised of
yesterday’s offcuts before
a most unexpected reprise,
“You know that story? I missed a line,
‘I woke besides the ugliest woman…'”

A true story…
(26.12.23)

© Ben Quant 2023

Poem 216 – The Foodbank Nicked My Chocolate Cake

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Oh, dear, I found out late
The foodbank nicked my chocolate cake
Oh, no, it was not funny
But apparently it was quite yummy
They scoffed the lot
and stuffed their tummies
and left behind
this plate all crummy
But oh, how, I laughed out loudly
When I found they’d eaten the wombat’s brownie

I’m writing this at the end of a fantastic day hosting Paul Cookson the performance poet, with shows and workshops at two local schools before back here at our church. Just before the show we discovered that our foodbank had accidentally given away our refreshments and decided that ‘The Foodbank Nicked My Cake’ would make a great title. Here’s my quick stab at this in pale imitation of Paul’s children’s verse. I’m afraid you’ll have to have been at his gigs to get the punchline…
(17.11.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by iMattSmart on Unsplash

Poem 208 – Including Judas

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My table stretches,
extends so all
can gather round
to eat.

Pictures of the Last Supper always feature a large table – it would have to be to accomodate the twelves disciples as well as Jesus! It always fascinates me that Jesus welcomed them all to share such an intimate and pivotal meal, especially Judas, who he knew was about to betray him. What is this? Foolishness? Naivety? Or simply an act of inclusive grace?
(See also the end of this post by by Nadia Bolz-Weber)
(02.10.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Image by Leonardo da Vinci – High resolution scan by http://www.haltadefinizione.com/ in collaboration with the Italian ministry of culture. Scan details, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3032252

Poem 174 – Fusion Cooking

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Ingredients:
blend together
two unrelated
cuisines or musical
languages

Outcome:
a fusion dish
of novel taste
an auditory
revelation

Ingredients:
two particles
accelerated
at speed into
a forced collision

Outcome:
explosive wave
of energy
reveals sub-
atomic secrets

Ingredients:
grab unrelated
ideas and hurl
together hard
to see what happens

Outcome:
metaphorical
generation
conceives surprising
ideas and insights

Ingredients:
a man, a woman
heat up their hormones
stir DNA
and leave to sit

Outcome:
new life erupts
through pain and joy
familiar yet
distinctly different

But still…
we build
our walls
close down
the channels
shut down
surprise
take cover
behind
our slogans
fearful
of what
might be
and be
discovered

This started life as a poem about poems and metaphors for World Poetry Day, but finished up as something quite different as I combined not just this and other interests of mine whilst reflecting on a local hotel housing asylum seekers.
(23.03.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Photo by John Legrand on Unsplash

Poem 128 – A Daily Ritual

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I intervene before the kettle boils
Just as the pitch begins to shift I lift
And pour its contents on the roasted beans
A bed, that’s waiting to be stirred to life
A dash of white completes the conjured spell
Awakening its swirling velvet darkness
Its rich fragrance assaults and tastebuds cheer
As finally… anticipation ends

A mid-morning coffee. Perfect.
(16.05.22)

© Ben Quant 2022