A Dish (Cuisine) That Talks

I am a dish that talks and usually i want the chef to do his stuff my way wishing this, wishing that hoping to be the next best dish to top the restaurant list as the chef sprinkles his spices and salt onto me i diffident would complain of the excesses, the overindulgent use of veggies and mutton or mollusks, mustard vinegar and pepper and even the overheating, charbroiled, stir fried steam cooked or stewed i want it my way giving little regard to the chef's expertise for fear of becoming an offensive blandness on the tongues of the masters over enthusiastic over what would turn out of me only when my fragrance spreads over the table to trigger that salivating nerves in mouths that the buddha himself would jump over the wall to have me in his belly that i realise the chef is correct he is cooking me and he knows how best i should be served that exquisiteness that could only result from an original recipe the chef himself knows best how he should turn out his creation i take the opportunity to ask him what he finds most in the way as he tries to realise his dream of me and he says 'Your load of bland ego with the toughness of a three year old chicken.' 'It takes such a long time to just boil them down to edible portions.'