POETIC CEYLON RUBY MINE PIE

Two wonderful still lifes by Luis Melendes inspires creating recipes in a poetic form:
http://www.nga.gov/feature/artnation/still_life/index.htm

http://www.kfki.hu/~arthp/support/viewer/z.html
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This is the poetic version of my original recipe, which is also posted under Food and Garden in the traditional recipe form. This poetic version was designed for each recipe ingredient paragraph's lines to be shaped in the appropriate form: an egg, a bowl, spoon, sifted flower, a skillet, a tea cup, etc. But I was not able to create those forms on this site.

POETIC CEYLON RUBY MINE PIE
(Crustless Cranberry Pie)
By BumbleBeeBoogie - March 25, 1995
THIS ORIGINAL RECIPE SHALL NOT BE COPIED BY ANYONE FOR FINANCIAL GAIN PURPOSES.)

On a cold and dreary winter's day, in the kitchen heart of your home, preheat your oven to 325 Fahrenheit; feeling the warmth enfold and caress you as you slither pats of creamy, golden butter, warmed by the heat of your hands, around the bottom and sides of two ten-inch pie pans until they shimmer and your hands glisten.

In a big, old-fashioned white pottery bowl with blue flowers entwined along its rim, let three cups of wine-colored cranberries tumble into the bowl until they resemble the inside of an ancient Ceylon ruby mine.

In a black cast-iron skillet, lightly toast in a film of butter one-half cup of California walnuts freed from their shells until their edges are crisp and golden and the nutty aroma wafts through your kitchen.

On a honey-colored maple board, a birthday present made by your son, gently chop amber-colored walnuts into the size of plump kernels of corn and dribble them over the rosy cranberries.

Scoop three-fourths cup of white sugar from the blue and white Delft canister inherited from your mother and drift a miniature snow storm of sparkling crystals over the cranberries and walnuts in the bowl.

Wielding your rose-patterned silver ladle, mingle the cranberries, walnuts and sugar until they nestle together and gently ladle them into the two pans until they resemble the surface a New England cranberry bog.

Crack the shells of two brown eggs still warm from the hen's feathered body and drop the golden yolks and clear albumin into the bowl of your powerful mixer and whirl them until they resemble rich lemon-colored cream.

Crumble three-fourths cup of light brown sugar with your fingers and dribble it into the bowl to swirl and blend into the creamy eggs.

Melt three-fourths cup of golden sweet butter in your heavy copper pan, a Christmas gift from your daughter.

Scoop three-fourths cup of all purpose, fluffy, ivory-hued flour and gradually add it to the bowl, alternating it with the warm, aromatic butter, whirling the batter until it is well-married; pour and spread with a gentle touch this sweet goodness evenly over the cranberries.

Baking forty-five minutes until golden brown will perfume your home with a fruity aroma, carrying invitations to family and neighbors to join you at your pine table in front of your dining room fireplace.

Drape your grandmother's crocheted cloth on the table, add newly polished silver forks the old rose-patterned china plates, and cups and saucers found in an antique store to hold dark, rich steaming coffee crowned with a dollop of vanilla cream.

Gather clusters of dried pale blue and mauve Hydranges, rustling dry from hanging in your attic, and thrust them into a yellow fluted bowl along with sprigs of rosemary from the herb pots marching along your diamond-paned kitchen window sill.

Hungry appetites, whetted by the mingled aromas, patiently wait for the salubrious pie to cool, out of reach of the kitchen calico cat sleeping luxuriously near the warm oven; but remember to hide a wedge of pie in the back of your bountiful refrigerator---its even more delectable the next day.