Roman spaghetti cooked to perfect perfection but over-dosed with a spicy hot fire of flaming red sauce, a Spanish delight hot as can be, hot sauce, hot hearts, the Romantic Languages of Spain and Italy and France, hot spaghetti and the cooks are fired in a hot kiln. Fired and now on the unemployment line, lines getting longer, no one eating spaghetti anymore, just dreaming of it on an empty stomach. Spaghetti so hot it burned our delicate tasting tongues--hot with wrathful anger but not hot enough to make a point: messing with our stomachs is no way to get a disagreement settled. Stomach linings burning, tracheas burping, and head cooks drowning in poisoned meat sauce. Spoiling foods to get a point across. The Judge sits on his bench--the judge rules them 3 strikes you are out--giving them a seat on the "out" bench. Out in the cold for a hot idea, a hot head, a hot sauce. Red meat sauce Kosher as can be, will stay Kosher, without the hot-headed cooks. Without a blemish on the sacrifice to Him, but yes, there are blemishes on the cooks. They can be warned with a yellow flag: Try it one more time and you will be eating dust. A memory on my frying pan: he does not do the cooking anymore. Headless heartless cooks replaced by good cooks at a job interview. Fiesta Kosher Fish Fillets tonight and tomorrow too. Bon appetit!
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