Thanksgiving at La Ferme
Though I am not a Cordon Bleu,
I am a judge of food “un peu.”
I’m pretty good, though not a master,
And I can recognize disaster
Such as we recently went through.
A dinner we for long will rue
As awful as was served to us
Right at La Ferme, mannerless.
Instead of being our own cook,
We at Le Ferme a table booked
For seven of us, ever-living,
Bent on an elegant Thanksgiving.
The turkey served gives us a start,
It isn’t carved, but whacked apart
With a great cleaver so it seems.
Such as one sees in evil dreams.
I ordered steak, a New York strip.
What a disaster, what a trip!
Instead they serve me tough roast beef -
Pure chewy, culinary grief.
So there I sit, I’m half way spooked.
The green beans are but half way cooked
The waiter offers his regrets.
But New York strip steak no one gets.
I should have ordered it before.
He’s sorry, but there is no more
So there I sit, I chew and chew
While inside I just stew and stew.
One of the group has ordered veal;
Another disappointing meal.
The veal itself was sliced too thick
Then overcooked, too hot; too quick.
And so we suffered, all of us
But quiet and without a fuss.
We learned a lesson, that is true:
Next year we’ll cook a simple stew.
And dine at home, where all are happy
Where all will help to make it snappy
Where all are grateful to be living
And all will have a true Thanksgiving.
By The Hungry Poet
This review is the subjective opinion of a TripAdvisor member and not of TripAdvisor LLC.