The Un-Risotto

I tried to be impressive once,

with arborio rice and chicken stock.

Said, 'It's a simple, slow romance,'

but all I got was kitchen shock.

The pan was hot, the wine was poured,

the onion browned, a hopeful start.

But something in the stirring soared

too high, then broke, then fell apart.

The rice, it never softened quite,

just swelled and stayed a gritty paste.

A grey, glutinous, sorry sight,

a flavor I still try to erase.

It clung, a starchy, bland regret,

to plate and tongue, a heavy glue.

A taste of failure, I can't forget.

It was supposed to be something new.