his secret ingredient

when

my father cooked, he always

had to pour

a bottle

of beer

into whatever it was he was

cooking up

for dinner.

he loved to cook.

stews,

soups,

ribs on the grill.

a roaster chicken.

with a twinkle in his eye,

he'd pop

the cap off a Miller High Life,

take a swig and tell us

not tell

our mother, then pour

the rest

into the pot,

or pan.

smothering the bird

or beast

with beer.