Friday poetry challenge: love songs to food

In "Keep Your Hands Off Our Haggis," an article in today's New York Times, Alexander McCall Smith debunks recent claims that haggis originated in England rather than in Scotland (read it here), boldly asserting that "If one's national bard writes a poem to a dish consisting of chopped-up offal cooked in a sheep's stomach together with oatmeal and spices and secured with a curious pin, then the dish must be authentically national."

He refers, of course, to the Robert Burns poem "Address to a Haggis," which begins thus:

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the pudding-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o' a grace
As lang's my arm.

Lurking somewhere behind all that auld lang syne is the sort of passion for food that one does not often see in classical poetry. Sure, William Carlos Williams put those wonderful plums into free verse, but imagine if old man Frost had been inspired by a passion for mashed potatoes:

Whose spuds these are I think I know;
His house is in the village, though.
He will not see me stopping here
To steal his lovely potato.

Or how about Joyce Kilmer:

I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as kim-chee....

Or Emily Dickinson:

A bird came down the walk:
He did not know I saw;
I clapped a net over his head
And ate the fellow, raw.

Clearly, some of our great poets have missed their calling--but that doesn't mean you have to. Today's challenge: write a paean in verse to a particular food item. You may alter an existing poem or produce something entirely new. I'll start:

The staff of life would fall down flat
Without a boost from yeast.
But let those microbes do their work
And bread becomes a feast.

Rats, now I'm hungry.