Skip to main content

Na Hai Wri Mo - Food, glorious food

That's National Haiku Writing Month and a challenge to write one haiku every day during February. They're only little poems and it's only one a day, so no sweat, right? Actually, it always surprises me how much discipline it takes to commit to adopting a new daily habit!  To ignore the voice that says, Oh don't worry, give it a miss today.

But Michael Dylan Welch's rolling project has Food as its theme this month. So how could I resist? Or perhaps it's more that as the hungry writer I feel I have a duty to participate! 

There's a daily prompt to focus and guide me. Today is Pasta. Tomorrow is Eggs. I hope there's roast chicken, chips, and chocolate in there at some point! 

I might get some good haiku out of this. I'll probably write some that don't amount to much. But I'll be writing, consciously. And in a direction I haven't dictated for myself - there are always discoveries to be made when I enter un-mapped writing territory. 

orecchiette
the waiter asks me again
which pasta I'd like

I think I'm trying to be too clever here: orecchiette means 'little ears' in Italian. But at least it's a start. 

spaghetti hoops
my grandson tries to convince me
he didn't do it

I'm trying too hard, tying the two halves of the haiku together with a band of iron, rather than a loose thread. Trying to get the idea of 'jumping through hoops' into the haiku. Haiku are light, fleeting moments captured, insights. This is clunky.

Oh well, there's the rest of the day. And maybe I'll have more luck with eggs tomorrow. And the rest of the month's prompts. 

Hungry Writing Prompts
Write a haiku. 
Write about eating pasta.
Write about following a map.
Write about cleverness.
Write about being lucky.


Popular posts from this blog

Pie, pie glorious pie

So often when we talk about food we are talking about family. In fact that was how the hungry writer blog began, nearly six years ago: weekly memories or life stories linked by the theme of food. Food is nurture and love. It can be celebration and anxiety too. It can also be a battleground, as the parents of young children know so intimately! Which is rather a satisfying segue into the family featuring in this week's blogpost: The Radfords. Because if anyone understands the feeding of children, really, really understands, it has to be Sue Radford who, with her husband, Noel, has 19 children. You can read about the family on their website but don't rush off yet as what I really want to talk about is pie. And specifically Radford's pies.
Noel Radford has been a baker for 25 years and opened his own bakery in 1999 in Heysham, Lancashire and makes pies with locally sourced ingredients. That, along with his skill as a master baker, means that the pictures of the 'filled to t…

Eat, laugh, cry, remember: Baked Camembert

Once, on a holiday in Malta, I dressed Tony up in my gypsy skirt and stretchy white vest, used two satsumas for breasts and made up his eyes and lips with the brightest colours I had with me. Then I took a photograph. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact he seemed quite tickled by the fuss and attention to detail, but the quantity of rosé we’d shared at Snoopy’s restaurant on the seafront in Sliema earlier in the evening might have had something to do with that.

This was 1988. There were no digital cameras for instant viewing (and, praise be, instant deletion). The only instant photographs at the time came courtesy of Polaroid, with their packages of square film and box-like cameras, and slid out of the front of the machine on shiny thick card that everyone huddled over and watched develop. But they tended to be party cameras, appearing at Christmas, birthdays, engagements. You captured your holiday photos on a proper camera, one you had to load and feed film into, then unload and drop off…

The Mythic Biscuit: Oreos

My childhood biscuits were mainly plain but had lovely names: Marie, Nice, Rich Tea. Quiet biscuits. The kind of biscuits that would never interrupt a conversation. Polite, not pushy. At the other end of the spectrum, and only irregularly present, probably a result of practical economics, were cheeky Jammy Dodgers, irritable Garibaldis, and self-contented and reliable Bourbons. And even more irregularly, the flashy inhabitants of a Christmas Box of Biscuits: Pink Wafers. I ate them at the same time as not liking them very much, a bit like Miss World Contestants in sparkly dresses, too much eye make-up and a saccharine idea of world peace. 
I'm in the mood to think, and personify, 'biscuits' because the lovely team at Oreo sent me some samples of their new Oreo Thins. I hadn't heard of Oreos until the early 1990s when a friend asked if I would bring him back a packet from a Florida holiday. I forgot and pretended I couldn't find them. 'But they're everywher…